So, Are You Convinced Yet?
by SageAdvice
Summary: Modernized Version of Persuasion. Aria Edwards gave up on love several years ago, but has love given up on her? With the unwanted help of family and friends, correcting a past mistake is no easy task.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: This is based on a Jane Austen novel. Once you, the readers, have recovered from that shock, you should probably be informed that anything you love, or hate, must be credited to her. Anyone and anything you don't recognize belongs to me. Several subplots will be twisted around in later chapters. MOST IMPORTANTLY: No moose(s) were harmed in the making of this story.

Marcus Emilio Reese stealthily crept toward the Plasma TV located in the middle of Aria Edwards' bedroom. Smirking mischievously, he flipped through the still-muted channels, pausing on VH1. Pounding the volume button on the remote, until the loudest possible volume had been reached, he waited for Aria's gurglings to evolve into her trademark greeting of, "CAN'T YOU RESPECT MY DELICATE FEMININE SENSIBILITIES… JUST THIS ONCE!"

Marcus removed her covers with a theatrical flourish, declaring that women of the twenty-first century had been known to participate in belching the National Anthem, mud-wrestling, and driving eighteen-wheelers, so "Delicate Feminine Sensibilities" were overrated. Turning his attention to the Oz Fest rerun, he yelped at the sight of a burly, tattooed, stereotypical biker chowing down on live gerbils.

"Aria, how can you watch this crap! It's like I'm always telling you, Delicate Feminine Sensibilities are all the rage these days."

At twenty-three, Aria Edwards still couldn't fathom Marcus's reasoning for waking her up at exactly the same time, in exactly the same way, as he had for the past seventeen years. Rather than demand answers to these burning questions, she showered him with praises of the how-would-I-ever-manage-without-you-Marcus variety.

Marcus Emilio Reese had been Aria's best friend since she could remember. There hadn't been a moment in her life he hadn't experienced with her. During her mother's illness, he had respected her wishes of sitting in silence. During her years of being trained in proper etiquette, he had snuck into her lessons and placed gum on the seat of her teacher's chair. During puberty, he had never laughed at the rate she acquired certain body parts, or attempted to escape from her mood swings. He knew how she drank her chocolate milk. She knew how much butter he put on his toast.

Everyone believed they were a "perfect couple." He was a sandy-haired, amber-eyed, muscular youth with a roguish smile and a sense of humor that bordered on being scandalous. She was a raven-haired, hazel-eyed, delicate, curvaceous young woman with a slightly-upturned nose. Aria, in her typical outfits of pigtails, blouses, plaid skirts (much like Brittney Spears during the Era of Hit Me Baby, One More Time), and layers of socks, wasn't stunning enough to be picked out of a crowd, but up close, she could be described as "pretty enough." Marcus, in his typical outfits of hoodies baring the name of some sports team in bold letters, jeans enormous enough to fit himself and fourteen sumo-wrestlers, and neon-colored Converse high-tops, could be picked out of a crowd; however, due to this towering height.

On this particular morning, she would be working the 7 a.m. shift at the Kelly Lynch Preparatory University and Conservatory Campus Starbucks before attending the KLPUC Board Meeting and Luncheon with her father. After her mother's death, her father had recruited her to take the minutes at these meetings. She had always believed that no twelve-year-old should know anything about the budgetary concerns of a university, but when her father demanded her obedience, she was powerless to disobey. Not that her father appreciated her determination to please him, of course.

Mr. Waldon Eddlestein lovingly examined the cover of his only published work, entitled _Beyond Perfection: The Glorious History of the Edwards Family_. The pages had begun to disintegrate years ago, but he couldn't seem to overcome his obsession with one page in particular…the page about his personal triumphs. Much like the Acclaimed Participants of Biblical Times, Mr. Waldon Edwards, Dean of Kelly Lynch Preparatory University and Conservatory, had married the highly sought-after Socialite, Elianna Stephen, and, consequently, begotten himself a respectable brood consisting of: Elianna, Aria, a still-born son, and Marita. Acclaimed Participants of Biblical Times, you see, always seemed to begetting someone or other of great importance.

At fifty-four years young, Mr. Waldon Edwards was an undeniably handsome gentleman, with the merest flecks of silver in his hair, a sturdy physique, and piercing, emerald eyes. He had yet to develop a requisite Beer-Belly and wrinkles and age spots and arthritis and kidney failure and use of dentures and, most keenly perceived by Aria, a shred of common sense. Mr. Waldon Edwards spent the majority of his life preening; he stood for hours simply staring at himself in any mirror or reflective surface he happened to come across.

Much to Aria's disgust, Elianna was no better. With her auburn curls, lips that Angelina Jolie would envy, blinding pearly whites, and perfect complexion, Elianna looked exactly like one of the bimbos in an Old Navy commercial. Elianna only cared about her appearance, and the fact that her father loved her best. Were she not the female version of their father ("Her Father with Tits," Marcus crowed during their more infuriating moments), Aria was certain Mr. Waldon Edwards would shower Elianna with as much attention and affection as he gave Aria…absolutely NONE.

Aside from his appearance, Mr. Waldon Edwards could only be bothered with one thing… making lavish purchases; for Mr. Waldon Edwards was a bone-a-fide Shopaholic. Should an item grace the Home Shopping Network, Antiques Roadshow, any site on the Internet, Billboards, sides of buses, Spam Email, etc., Mr. Waldon Edwards was sure to purchase it, usually multiple times.

The most horrifying purchase had occurred just two days ago when Aria awoke to find a pair of glazed eyes hovering above her, glazed eyes accompanied by putrid breath, blackened teeth, a multitude of matted hair, and an intimidating set of antlers. Her father had sequestered a moose in her bedroom, which Marcus had exuberantly mounted, as if a Cowboy on horseback.

She would not tolerate a moose in her room at such an ungodly hour of the morning! Being treated like an inconvenience, while Elianna was regarded as a queen, was one thing, but a bloody moose in her bloody bedroom… there just weren't words to describe the injustice! She needn't have worried about revenge; however, because the very next day she learned the awful truth. Her father's spending had sent them into poverty; well, poverty compared with a ten-story house and bearskin rugs.

Her father had been one of Kelly Lynch Preparatory University and Conservatory's most respected Deans, as had many Edwards Men before him, but Mr. Slipknot, Counsel to the President of Kelly Lynch Preparatory University and Conservatory (Slipknot Men had befriended Edwards Men since the beginning of time), had no choice but to inform his dearest friend that if he was unable to make the payments for his University-provided lodgings, his position as Dean would be offered to someone capable of affording the ever-skyrocketing costs of said living expenses.

To add insult to injury, Mr. Waldon Edwards' other dear friend, Mrs. Ester Rosenburg, sagely advised that he rent out his home (which Edwards Men had fondly referred to as the "Mini Mansion" for generations), until he had sold enough of his precious belongings to remove him from poverty. Mrs. Ester Rosenburg was particularly determined that the moose should be the first thing to go, even if Mr. Waldon Edwards ignored the remainder of her advice.

Aria was her favorite child of the Edwards Brood, and she could never forgive Mr. Waldon Edwards and Elianna for their cruel treatment of her. Granted, Aria possessed no striking features, passion for shopping, or fashion sense, but she was gracious, kind, loving, accepting, and all that could ever be desired in a daughter and dearest friend. Elianna, though Mrs. Rosenburg had attempted for years to convince her to obtain Aria's admirable traits, refused to behave as her younger sister did…in any situation. Mrs. Ester Rosenburg eventually resolved herself to the fact that Elianna, and the already-wedded Marita, were lost causes.

Another source of continuous agony to Mrs. Ester Rosenburg was Elianna's best friend Mrs. Cross. Mrs. Cross had been married once, but, as marriages will inevitably turn out when the wife is cursed with tragically protruding teeth and hideous feckless, as Mr. Waldon Edwards would say, she wound up divorced and living, with her two children, in her parents' house. Mrs. Ester Rosenburg had absolutely no respect, and even less use, for a divorced woman. What kind of woman was she if she was unable to fulfill her feminine responsibilities (being a wife, a mother, and a homemaker)?

Mrs. Ester Rosenburg also believed Mrs. Cross was unforgivably daft, what with the way she constantly flattered Elianna, agreed with whatever came tumbling out of Elianna's mouth, and encouraged Elianna to speak vulgarly and spend her time with the wrong sort of people… musicians and artists and actors and writers. What would straighten Elianna out immediately, Mrs. Ester Rosenburg believed, were friends from a Chess Club.

Mrs. Ester Rosenburg was considered the Oracle of the group. Her predictions typically came to pass. She had warned Mr. Waldon Edwards for years that his spending would lead him down the path to financial ruin. Now that Mr. Waldon Edwards' poverty was upon them, she had absolutely no idea why Aria continued to be trampled upon, and why the moose had yet to be sold. Regardless of these minor setbacks, with the intimidating dress suits she wore (generally made from royal purple fabrics), accessorized with lethally-high heels, and her silver hair consistently swept up in a no-nonsense bun, Mrs. Ester Rosenburg's role of Omnipotent Matriarch came as no surprise to anyone.

Mr. Slipknot, painfully aware that Mr. Waldon Edwards was leveling him with a bloodthirsty Glare of Death, agreed with Mrs. Ester Rosenburg that the Mini Mansion must be rented, and he felt that, with the Kelly Lynch Preparatory University and Conservatory President's express permission of course, a 4-Star General from World War II would be the perfect candidate.

Mr. Waldon Edwards was disgusted beyond measure. Generals were hardly fit to eat dog droppings from his bearskin rug! Years of struggling to survive countless battles had left the majority of them tanned to a crisp, with mud-clogged fingernails and missing limbs. No General of Mr. Waldon Edwards' acquaintance, not that he had ever met a General, of course, had managed to retain the handsomeness of his youth. And Generals came from poor families, but demanded respect simply because they had fought for their country's freedom. Mr. Waldon Edwards believed that reasoning was bullshit! He would have been the first to defend his country, if he hadn't been afraid of soiling his uniform.

Mr. Slipknot blubbered that Mr. Waldon Edwards had better change his tune, since General Creed and his wife had already agreed to visit the Mini Mansion next week. Mr. Slipknot comforted Mr. Waldon Edwards with the information that the Creeds had no children, so Mr. Waldon Edwards' furniture would not be ruined, and having such a famous gentleman live in his home would give him endless bragging rights. Mr. Waldon Edwards was immediately cheered, until Mr. Slipknot mentioned Mrs. Creed's relatives.

Mrs. Creed's brother was Mr. Winters. Mr. Winters lived in one of the upscale neighborhoods about five minutes away from the Kelly Lynch Preparatory University and Conservatory Campus. A neighbor of Mr. Winters had crept onto Mr. Winters' lawn in broad daylight in a foolish attempt to steal Mr. Winters' mailbox. This near-thievery had inspired quite a stir among the otherwise quiet community. Mailboxes were jealously guarded following the incident, and Mr. Winters' reputation was ruined.

Noticing the twitching of Mr. Waldon Edwards' eye at the reminder of the Mailbox Incident, Mr. Slipknot immediately changed the subject to General Creed being honored by several Presidents of the United States. Anyone would be pleased to have such a hero renting their home. Mr. Waldon Edwards brightened instantly, and eagerly began planning his move to Boston where a Dean was sorely needed at Claremont University.

Aria was heartbroken by the idea of a future in Boston. She had visited once after her mother's death and had no fond memories of the city. More depressing was the knowledge that Mrs. Creed's relatives would be swarming through her house, especially the thought of **HIM **being among the swarm.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: I dedicate this with love and respect to the person who inspired me to attempt writing my own Modernized Tale, even though I never realized how difficult creating these Modern Versions were before I tried to write one. She is an amazing authoress and an even more magnanimous person than I could ever dream of being (how many people would be willing to let their stories be so brutally dissected and poked fun at). In short: YOU ROCK! I also dedicate this to my Aunt Kim, who, although she'll never read this, has always pushed me to write ANYTHING and finish it. Infinite hugs and kisses, Aunt Kim! In closing, I wish to dedicate this to one of the most important friendships of my life, which ended so tragically, as a means of closure. Even though we were never able to patch things up, you're always in my thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

The **HIM** who caused such quaking in Aria's knees and palpitations in Aria's heart was the brother of Mr. Winters, Kip Winters. Kip Winters was a Special Agent with the FBI, who had been summoned to the area by his brother, in the hopes of apprehending the Almost-Mailbox-Thief. Aria had been nineteen and the time, and easily seduced by the dashing, genteel Kip. After two weeks of moonlight walks and philosophical discussions of where they hoped to be in five years, Kip had proposed, and Aria had immediately accepted.

Those adolescent dreams were shattered by the Silent Treatment of Mr. Waldon Edwards, and the disappointment of Mrs. Ester Rosenburg, who chastised Aria that a Special Agent from the FBI would never make enough money to support a family, and his career would either kill him, or turn him to a life of a crime. Aria had grudgingly agreed to refuse Kip, but, within the most secret corners of her heart, she had never stopped loving him.

On the evening Aria told Kip that she just wasn't ready for marriage, and she needed time to find herself before she could be defined by her bond with someone else, Marcus was perched expectantly upon her window-seat when she returned with wayward strands of hair escaping form her pigtails and heart-breaking tears smudging her makeup. Marcus, despite his instinctive desire to comfort her, gritted his teeth and roared that she had made the biggest mistake of her life.

"ARIA, WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING! KIP WINTERS ADORES YOU. HE LOVES YOU, OKAY? YOU'RE NEVER GOING TO FIND ANOTHER GUY LIKE THAT… EVER! All you've ever done is break your back kissing your father's ass and your sister's ass and the ass of everyone at Kelly Lynch, and the ONE opportunity you had to put yourself first for a change, you've completely SCREWED IT! Kip Winters would have treated you like a queen… like a diva… like the goddess I have always known you were. WE COULD HAVE BEEN DIVAS, Aria!"

His deafening tirade had been silenced by the "OUCH!" and "DAMNIT!" of Kip Winters painstakingly ascending the trellis beneath Aria's window. Single rose clenched between his teeth, Kip lurched over the windowsill. Marcus quipped that he was either hoping to Tango, or receive the RIGHT answer to his lovelorn plea of, "Marry me, Aria." Marcus stormed off, leaving Aria to correct the greatest error she'd ever made. Kip tentatively kneeled; Kip courageously proposed; Kip was brutally shot down.

Marcus had never forgiven her for letting Kip Winters slip through her fingers. With his ocean-blue eyes, ebony wisps of hair falling over his forehead, sun-bronzed skin, melodic laughter and admirable confidence, no woman was completely immune to his charms.

There had been a would-be Romeo two years later, Carl Matthews, a graduate of the country's most prestigious law school, who had become a partner in one of the country's most prestigious law firms. Carl had showered Aria with flowers, chocolates, promises of expeditions around the world via yacht, multi-billion dollar Summer Homes in exotic locales, etc., but Aria steadfastly refused him. Mrs. Ester Rosenburg had been as devastated over the loss of Carl Matthews as Aria's spouse as she was that Aria would soon be leaving for Boston.

On the evening Raina turned down Carl Matthews, Marcus howled in disbelief from his position on the window-seat, "OH MY GOD! You did it again, didn't you? You turned down another one of the Universe's Most Eligible Bachelors! Aria, this isn't a bloody Jane Austen novel! A woman can't afford to be breaking hearts left and right. Men don't grow on trees, you know! You don't get to snub a zillion Mr. Wonderfuls before choosing the one you deem most worthy! Allow me to reiterate myself… Kip. Winters. Is. Your. Perfect. Man. I'm at a loss as to how to make myself any clearer on the subject."

Off Aria's miserable sighing and pouting, Marcus soothingly stroked her hair, and refrained from further commentary on the perfection of Kip Winters.

Aria's move to Boston was delayed by the over-the-phone yowling of Marita. Marita was constantly suffering from imaginary illnesses, which never ceased to demand Aria's immediate dropping of whatever she was doing, in order to go to Umbridge Court to comfort her. So it was decided that Aria would nurse Marita back to health, and occasionally visit the Creeds at the Mini Mansion, until after Christmas, when Mrs. Ester Rosenburg would take her to Boston. Aria was terrified that this decision would force her to come face-to-face with Kip Winters again, but she assured herself that seeing Kip Winters would be nothing compared to waking up and discovering that a moose had been put in her room.

Aria and Marcus had not been separated since their introduction nearly two decades ago. Marcus had even secured himself in her luggage every summer that she was sent abroad for Finishing School. After the first three years of being found by the Head Mistress of the Fabulous Female Finishing School of France, Madam Rousseau, the attic was reserved for Marcus in advance. Astonishingly enough, multiple summers of Finishing School failed to transform Marcus into a proper lady, or teach him the most basic of manners.

Following such a friendship as theirs', Aria was immeasurably devastated by the prospect of not being with him whenever she wanted, of not returning to her room to find him relaxing on her window-seat. It was with welling eyes and a fractured heart that she bid Marcus farewell for the final time. He merely blinked at her, coyly perking that if she didn't bring him a souvenir, he would either slaughter her before she had the opportunity to turn down ANOTHER proposal, or there would be a moose in her bedroom when she returned to the Mini Mansion.

When she arrived at Umbridge Court, Aria was immediately pounced upon by the tank-top-and-miniskirt-that-barely-covered-her-thong-clad Marita. With her bulging eyes and toothpick-thin arms and legs, Marita looked like a preying-mantis-turned-prostitute. Marita bitched at Aria for not coming sooner, and Aria calmly defended herself that Marita had told her over the phone three days before that she was feeling well enough to be by herself for a few days. She neglected to mention having to spend an entire day regaining her composure following her farewell to Marcus. Marita had never grasped the concept of Raina's co-dependency on her male friend. Men were there to pamper you, Marita had chided her on too many occasions to count, not to fill some friendship void that would be done more justice by a woman.

Besides, Marita concluded, who was lowly, servile, Peasant-esque Aria to question her reasons for feeling slighted when there was dinner at the Ponces' to jabber about? Aria was then informed that dinner at the Ponces' had been as boring as Marita had expected it to be, as everyone who usually RSVPed had shown up, and being squished into the backseat of the Matthews' Minivan was undoubtedly the cause of her illness.

Aria indulged her that minivans were responsible for a great many evils, while patiently puttering about the kitchen, concocting the chicken noodle soup Marita had preached would cure all that ailed her. When months-worth of Cosmo Quizzes and several bowls of soup had been finished, Marita was feeling energized enough to venture next door for a quick chat with the Matthews Family. The Matthews Family owned The Grand Hotel, which was actually a Bed and Breakfast, but Carl had christened it a "grand ole hotel," in one of his more mischievous moments, and the humorous name had stuck.

Aria found the eldest Matthews Girls (Heather, 20 and Lonnie, 19) to be as delightfully bubbly as she had remembered. Their respective experiences at an All-Female College had transformed them into eloquent, talented, and confident young ladies. Heather was studying Ballet, and Lonnie was studying Opera. Although the family couldn't afford BMWs, Mr. Matthews was not covered with tattoos, Mrs. Matthews was not a heroin addict, and the youngest Matthews children weren't pyromaniacs, so Aria acknowledged that they were very decent people. Her only complaint to herself was that she, Elianna, and Marita would never be as close as Heather and Lonnie.

When compared to the beauty of the golden-haired, grey-eyed Heather and the red-haired, chocolate-eyed Lonnie, Aria was astonished that Marita had managed to attract any man's attention. Carl was no Brad Pitt, with his pudgy middle, unmanageable, dingy-blond hair, and squinty eyes, but he was generally polite and honest and dependable. Aria had her suspicions that the only reason Marita married him was he because he had been interested in her first.

Aria was furious that the only role she was considered worthy to play at Umbridge Court was the confidante of everyone else. Carl wailed to her that Marita was putting his sanity to the test with her constant bitching and moaning about imaginary illnesses, and Marita simpered that Carl would glower at her as she gasped her final breath, and the last ounce of life left her body, without so much as lifting a finger to ease her suffering. Aria resented Carl's habitual practice of excusing himself to play golf (were she any less of a saint, Aria might have needled him about being more intimate with his golf club than with his wife), instead of tending to Marita himself, but she pacified herself that she shouldn't expect favors from a man she had refused. And, at the very least, Carl Matthews was more preferable than a moose.

Heather and Lonnie groaned to Aria incessantly that their mother was always ranting about the performance of Marita's nanny and maids. Servants being at Wal-Mart, when they should be taking care of children and making beds, was appalling to Mrs. Matthews. These accusations were countered by Marita's gossiping that Mrs. Matthews's servants were always at Target, when they should be at the Grand Hotel doing everything in their power to make sure that the guests were comfortable.

Aria didn't give a rat's ass about the activities of any of the servants. She was more focused on the fact that she was rarely asked to exhibit her talent of playing the piano, since the Matthews were too preoccupied with cooing over Heather's leaps and Lonnie's solos. Aria's fifteen minutes of fame were provided during spontaneous get-togethers of the neighborhood youth. What began as pizza and beer evolved into sessions of bumping and grinding on the dance floor.

Three weeks had passed, with Aria being the first to learn all the gossip and only being requested to show off her Mad Piano Skillz at parties, when the Creeds stopped by for lunch.

Mrs. Creed was built like a rectangle, with scraggly brown hair and rosy cheeks. Aria was immediately impressed by her genuineness. This was a woman incapable of putting up a front. She would make an excellent talk show host, Raina quipped inwardly. General Creed had a portion of his stomach hanging over his belt, salt-and-pepper hair, an overwhelming mustache, green eyes flecked with brown, yellowed-teeth, and the awe-inspiring presence of one who has experienced many hardships during his lifetime.

Aria's comfort was shattered by Mrs. Creed's statement that she knew Aria was acquainted with her brother, and she might be interested to learn that Mr. Winters had married. Aria's stomach plummeted to her toes, as her heart leapt in her throat, until Mrs. Creed expounded that the brother she spoke of was not Aria's beloved Kip, but the unfortunate-when-it-came-to-mailboxes Mr. Winters.

"And speaking of Kip," General Creed continued authoritatively, "he'll be staying with us at the Mini Mansion in two weeks, so you all must join us for dinner to celebrate."

Mrs. Creed turned her accusatory glance toward Aria. "I don't believe you and Kip have met." Aria lamely gulped that she didn't believe they had either, and the visit ended without further awkwardness.

The Matthews Family was due for dinner at the Umbridge Court Estate at any minute, when the delicate pitter-patter of feminine footsteps, instead of the anticipated spluttering of the Matthews' Minivan, caught their attention. Lonnie entered the living room, apologetically blurting that dinner would continue as planned, but she had walked to Umbridge Court to ensure that there was room in the minivan for the harp; as her mother's nerves were raw, and only harp music could soothe her.

The Creeds, Lonnie began, had visited that morning with the joyful news of Captain Kip Winters' return. The Matthew's son Dick had been Kip's partner during his days at the FBI, and Kip's name had reminded Mrs. Matthews of the loss of her oldest son. Mrs. Matthews had forced Dick into undergoing FBI Training, as she had feared that he would never amount to anything if she didn't push him into doing something. Dick had grudgingly relented, but had refused to communicate with any of his family, except for begging for money, after that. He had been shot during his first investigation, and no one had mourned him, until now.

The continuous praising of Kip struck Aria as the cruelest joke the Fates could have ever played on anyone. Throughout the cry-me-a-river tale of Dick the Prick, Aria remained mute, brow furrowed, teeth clenched, sweat pouring down her forehead, as everyone else declared that spending time with Kip Winters as soon as possible was a must.

From the Frustration of Aria to the Bemusement of Marcus:

Dearest Marcus,

In the waning flame of a single candle, I have decided to write you. Staring into the flickering embers, I am reminded of our foray into camping. As I am certain you will recall, Justin Adams, Captain of the Lacrosse Team at Kelly Lynch Preparatory University and Conservatory, regaled us with tales of his thrilling adventures during the Senior Camping Expedition, which we attempted to recreate in my bedroom.

We hauled Father's tent up the stairs (making ridiculous efforts to disguise our activities; not that a man who would purchase a moose would find dragging a tent upstairs the slightest bit out of the ordinary) and positioned it beneath the window. Before bed, we set Mother's best candle sticks inside the tent with us in order to roast marshmallows, and the tent caught fire.

As I recall, you blamed the fire on Elianna and her friends, claiming that they had been using the candles to sterilize needles for piercing each other's ears. Father never even questioned their sanity, or your lies, but merely congratulated them for caring enough about their appearance to engage in ear-piercing.

Other than missing you desperately, I have no complaints. Marita has jabbered periodically about imaginary ailments, but Chicken Soup and cooing over her have soothed all that doesn't really ail her. Carl continues to vent his frustrations over his home life on the golf course. The children are growing like weeds. I have played piano for the masses attending the Matthews Family gatherings at the Grand Hotel. And we have been dining with the Matthews Family whenever they are certain that the Grand Hotel can function without them. Heather and Lonnie, the oldest Matthew Girls, have provided some entertainment with their constant blubbering about their mother's horror over the behavior of Marita's servants, but you will always be my Number One.

All my love,

Aria Edwards

P.S. I have yet to regret refusing Carl Matthews.

P.P.S. Kip Winters is visiting the Creeds. I am the epitome of Calm.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Who knew this story would actually develop a plot at some point beyond the moose and the preening of Mr. Waldon Edwards? I apologize profusely for some of the monotony of this chapter. I suppose boring people are boring even in Modern Times. Note to Marita: SHUT UP! For those of you who are completely confused, Carl's parents didn't own a Bed and Breakfast. They owned an estate called the "Great House," but in a Modernized Version of something you have to give people reasons to be wealthy. All that I'm-rich-due-to-an-inheritance crap just doesn't fly. Mostly, I regret that the style of Persuasion seems to be a-story-without-any-sense-of-flow-yet-it-somehow-manages-to-have-a-psuedo-sequential-order. I wish Jane Austen provided segues too. Thank you for your patience, and keep reading. Review if you'd like. I appreciate all the feedback I can get.


	3. Chapter 3

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: Letters are indicated by bold headings and italic font and are sectioned off from the rest of the story. Thanks for reading, and don't forget to review!

Ten minutes into his arrival at the Mini Mansion, Kip was invited to dine with the Creeds and the Matthews Family at the Grand Hotel. "Top Secret Government Business" was to keep him occupied for a week. Aria supposed that was plenty of time for her to find some clean undergarments. If he walked into the room, and her heart stopped beating, at least she'd die with clean panties. Fresh underwear would certainly get her into Heaven.

A week had passed when what Aria considered a blessing delayed the Dinner Debacle once again. Carl Matthews Jr. dislocated his shoulder during one of his rampages about the neighborhood. Although dinner was canceled, Carl was determined to meet Kip Winters. Marita Matthews was determined that she would meet the renown Kip Winters at the same time as her husband. Not to mention, someone had to keep Carl out of a trouble, as he was known for his pranks (the most recent being replacing the flags on the golf course with his wife's undergarments). Besides, Marita pouted petulantly to Aria, mothers make horrendous nurses. The Maternal Instinct is not equipped with a Coping with Children Mechanism, so it was Auntie Aria to the rescue again!

Introductions between Carl, Marita, and Kip were made. It was decided that since Kip must join Carl for a round of golf at some point during his visit, the next day would be the perfect opportunity. Kip was ordered to come by Umbridge Court the next morning to pick up Carl, and they would have breakfast at the Grand Hotel before Game Time.

Aria was all a-flutter at the prospect of simply being in the same state as Kip Winters, much less the same house. Would she be expected to speak to him? No one but herself, Kip, Mr. Waldon Edwards, Marcus, and Mrs. Ester Rosenburg knew about Kip's proposal, so everyone else must expect her to be as thrilled by his presence as they were. She would restrict their small talk to the weather, since weather couldn't possibly stir up ancient feelings. Mr. Waldon Edwards and Mrs. Ester Rosenburg would never enter the conversation.

She needn't have worried herself into near-hyperventilation. He studied her inscrutably from the corner of his eye, as she sat primly in the chair in a corner, gallantly complimented Marita's beauty, without sarcastically rolling his eyes, inquired after Carl Jr.'s recovery, and strode purposely in the direction of the Grand Hotel, with Carl lugging two golf bags in his wake.

Marita euphorically gabbed that Heather told her that Kip expressed the opinion that Aria's appearance had changed considerably. Aria consoled herself that five years can wreak havoc upon anyone's figure and complexion. As far as Special Agent Kip Winters was concerned, five years had increased his rugged good looks and perfect manners.

Unbeknownst to Aria Edwards, when Kip had made the insulting observations about her, he never intended for the verbal barbs to come back and bite him in his well-formed ass. Aria had destroyed him with her lack of resolve to fight for him, to fight for their love. The parental figures in her life had expressed doubts about the relationship, and rather than trust her heart, she had crumbled.

Unlike Aria Edwards, Kip Winters was not afraid to follow his heart. He had left a prominent position in Washington in part to find a good woman to settle down with. He wanted someone between twenty and thirty with undeniable beauty, a smile that lit up a room and an appreciation for the brave men and women of the FBI. Kindness and independence would elevate such a woman to the top of his List of Ideal Bachelorettes. Aria Edwards may have snubbed him, but he was not broken.

Aria Edwards and Kip Winters followed Mr. Waldon Edwards' example of using the Silent Treatment to mask your feelings. On the surface, Aria exchanged the requisite "good day"s, "how are you"s, "farewell"s, and "Thank God you refrained from tormenting me with your moose"s with Kip, but subconsciously, she craved nothing more than to be able to talk for hours on end like they used to.

At the first get together of the local youth since Kip arrived on the scene, Aria busied herself at the piano. Kip asked one of the countless Sorority Girls in attendance if Aria ever danced. The Sorority Girl replied, through mouthfuls of Doritos, that Aria clearly couldn't bust a move, since she never left the piano. When a jock began bellowing that the football game was about to begin, the crowds dispersed, and Aria abandoned her post at the piano in her search of a more cushion-y chair. Kip valiantly escorted her to an empty recliner, and Aria fumed over his chivalry, as if he had extended common courtesy to a stranger, rather than an old flame.

**From the Gaping Wounds of Aria to the Salving Abilities of Marcus**:

_My Dearest Marcus,_

_I am disappointed to report that my first meeting with Kip Winters did not result in an apocalypse. He shook my hand; I returned the gesture; he wished me a "good day;" I thanked him; he didn't even notice that my hair wasn't in pigtails. You would have been beyond proud of grace under pressure. Since then, Kip has been virtually held hostage by Carl and his addiction to golf, and Kip and I have been walking on eggshells around each other. He greets me with silence, I return the favor; such is the course of our confrontations. He renders Heather and Lonnie spellbound with his tales of being a Secret Agent, just like he used to do with me. Clearly, he has moved on; I have moved on; moving on has been accomplished; so a pox on all of your predictions that Kip and I are destined to be together! My only purpose in Kip's life is for him to offer me chairs at parties after I have played the piano for hours. Remember the Whoopee-Cushion you would stealthily place on the piano bench whenever you knew Kip would be visiting me? I'm still astonished that he would ever propose to someone who he must have believed had such horrendous bouts of gas. Attempt to be a gentleman!_

_All my love,_

_Raina Eddlestein_

_P.S. Should any moose happen to wander into my room while I'm trapped at Umbridge Court, catering to Marita's every whim, feel free to keep it!_

In the beginning, Kip Winters had originally intended to stay with the Creeds for a few weeks, before continuing onward to Mr. Winters' home on Monkford Drive, but the multitude of desirable women vying for his affections had convinced him to stay where he was. Heather and Lonnie were particular favorites of his, but which Matthews Girl would inevitably win his heart remained a mystery.

Prior to Kip's arrival, Heather had been romantically linked to Clarence Howard of the Howards Helping Heroes Agency, specializing in sponsoring amateur models, actors, singers, composers, musicians, writers, and every variety of athletes, until they hit the Big Time. Clarence had been promoting one of his author's abroad, but now, Heather's boyfriend was back. And if Kip's attentions were indeed romantic, she was gonna be in trouble. Clarence was carrot-topped and freckle-faced with bony elbows and knobby knees. He was woefully scrawny enough that even Aria, who did her utmost to find at least SOMETHING to compliment everyone about (if only to herself), was hard pressed to discover the silver lining in the cloud of Clarence Howard's appearance.

Marita adamantly condemned the match. The Howards had no fortunes or anything to recommend them beyond their relationship with the Matthews Family, and she would be damned if Heather's selfishness would condemn her to being related to an inferior being. Carl snarled that Clarence's status as the Oldest Howard Son ensured that he would take over the Howards Helping Heroes Agency once his father retired, and THAT must redeem the poor bastard slightly in Marita's eyes. But, as far as Marita was concerned, that Howard fellow could not be redeemed. All Aria felt for Clarence Howard was mortification that Heather would rather pass the time pressing her nose against the window in anticipation of Kip's arrival than praise Clarence for his contributions to the agency his father had built from blood, sweat, and tears.

Aria found herself alone at Umbridge Court one evening when she developed a migraine from constant care of Carl Jr. When Kip Winters strolled in on the pretext of meeting Heather and Lonnie, matters went straight to Hell in an entire factory of hand-baskets. Kip leapt virtually to the ceiling upon discovering Aria, instead of one the Matthews Girls. Clarence Howard, who had also ventured to Umbridge Court in the hopes of finding Heather, sauntered into the fray with a Glare of Death at Kip and a dramatic sigh, as he turned his attention to the newspaper. Carl Jr.'s younger brother toddled into the Room Fraught with Tension, grinning impishly, and throwing his arms about Aria's neck. Without a word, Kip disentangled the Matthews' spawn from Aria's person and peevishly retreated to his Spot of Silence before the window.

Disaster stuck yet again on the morning Aria awoke to find Heather and Lonnie bouncing on her bed. They chirpily announced that they had come to persuade her to join them for a walk about the grounds of Umbridge Court and throughout the surrounding neighborhood. Marita, completely disgruntled, bitched that she would have been a much better Third Wheel than Aria because she was an adept "walker." Heather and Lonnie graciously agreed that of course Marita must be included; then, they were joined by Carl and Kip en route from a golf game. Unable to resist the company of so many stunning females, Carl and Kip declared that they must be given the opportunity of proving how capable they were of walking, as well.

Aria struggled to recall quotes about autumn from the book Marcus had given her for her twenty-second birthday, as Kip's Flirtatious Banter with Lonnie rang excruciatingly in her ears. Aria eavesdropped on Lonnie's spiel that the Creeds were spending the morning together on a scenic drive, and she swooned melodramatically that her True Love could kill her in a horrific car crash, and it would be the most romantic excursion-by-vehicle she had ever experienced. Kip rewarded Lonnie's warped logic with his Billion-Watt, ear-to-ear grin.

Aria suddenly became consumed by an inexplicable urge to witness Lonnie be gored to death by a rapid moose.

Marita shrilly yowled that they were approaching Wesley Road, where Howards Helping Heroes Agency was located, and she imperiously declined to take a single step farther. Carl and Heather pranced off to visit the Howards, leaving Lonnie and Kip to sultrily flirt amongst the foliage, as Aria occupied her tempestuous thoughts with autumn quotes.

Amongst the vegetation, Kip launched into a ludicrous metaphor likening Lonnie's heroic efforts to bring Heather and Clarence together again to the resilience of a leaf. Lonnie majestically boasted that reigniting the flame between Heather and Clarence, with a spontaneous trek to Wesley Road, was certainly what any loving sister would have done under the circumstances. Kip profoundly philosophized that a leaf attached to a tree branch, far away from the influence of its dried, crackling peers that litter the ground, is protected from being influenced by the improper actions of other leaves, which Aria supposed was intended to imply that the dried, crackling leaves in question were Marita's hatred of Clarence Howard, and Lonnie was justified in her desire for Heather and Clarence to be a couple.

Lonnie shrilled that now that a love connection was sizzling again between Heather and Carl, Lonnie was free to focus her attentions on her unbridled hatred of Marita. Lonnie passionately insisted that the Matthews Family would always regret having Marita for a daughter-in-law rather than Aria. Carl's past with Aria was news to Kip. Lonnie's pronouncement that Mrs. Ester Rosenburg had attempted to persuade her to refuse Carl, due to his lack of an extensive education, was news to Aria.


	4. Chapter 4

Aria was horrified by the results of her eavesdropping. To be viewed by Kip Winters as someone who would refuse one man and then break the heart of another two seconds later was a scenario she had been unable to imagine in even her worst nightmares. And for such a pointless reason as a lack of education. Carl Matthews was one of the most respected lawyers in the country, after all! She trudged to where Marita had collapsed two blocks away from Howards Helping Heroes Agency, and anxiously waited for the remainder of their "merry" band. If Kip had any reaction to the news of her ancient history with Carl, he certainly wouldn't express it in front of everyone else.

Heather blushed crimson from shame over her negligence of Clarence Howard when in the presence of Kip Winters; Clarence Howard glowed with triumph as Heather dangled her engagement ring under their noses; Aria resigned herself to the reality that it was only a matter of time before Lonnie Matthews was dangling her engagement ring from Kip Winters under their noses. They divided themselves thusly: Heather and Clarence, Lonnie and Kip, and Marita, Carl, and Aria, with Carl blatantly refusing to hook Marita's arm through his own, as he was still testy about their previous Clarence-centric spat.

Tempers had flared to the boiling point when the Creeds' Convertible happened to zip merrily down Wesley Road. General Creed slowed the automobile long enough to offer to give Heather or Lonnie a lift. Heather and Lonnie politely declined, as Marita's hackles immediately rose over the indignity of not being included in the Creeds' gracious invitation. Kip whispered conspiratorially into his sister's ear, and Mrs. Creed warmly requested the honor of Aria's presence in the vehicle. Aria stammered that she couldn't possibly force them to waste their gas on her account, but the Creeds were adamant that they would enjoy doing her any small favor they could. Kip opened the door for her, taking her by the hand, and assisting her into the backseat. Aria was flabbergasted as to his motivation for being civil to her after everything he learned about her and Carl.

Once they had zoomed into the distance, leaving a glowering Kip Winters behind, General Creed commenced cooing to his wife that, as far as he was concerned, her beauty would never fade. Mrs. Creed dotingly advised her husband to keep his eyes on the road, instead of her beauty, and his mind on his driving, instead of her beauty, so they wouldn't mow down the post, the cow, that farmer, or any moose who happened to blunder into their path. Aria snickered to herself that Marcus would have prattled on forever about the General maneuvering his car as if it were a tank. Miraculously, she was deposited at Umbridge Court in once piece.

**From the Maniacal Cackling of Marcus to the Horror of Aria:**

_Most Beloved Aria,_

_In response to your last letter, let it first and foremost be stated that: Metaphorically classifying Lonnie as a leaf determined to stand out against the faults and wrong-doings of other leaves…THE HELL! I am certain that in time, Lonnie will prove to be one of the less-bright crayons in the box. Don't fret your pretty little head about her. As far as suitable autumn quotes for avoiding harsh realities are concerned, here's a splendid one: "Birdie, birdie, in the sky… why'd you do that in my eye. It's okay. I won't cry. I'm just glad that moose don't fly." It's not about Autumn per say, as much as it it's about the falling of objects, but I refuse to believe the corners of your lovely mouth didn't turn up in a smile for at least a fraction of a second. Congratulate Heather and Clarence Howard for me, as I'm not present to mock them to their faces._

_All my love,_

_Marcus Emilio Reese_

_P.S. Just because you claim that Kip Winters is no longer in danger of falling for Heather Matthews does not mean that Lonnie Matthews is guaranteed to steal his heart. I seem to remember, pretty damn vividly, a certain heartbreak over a certain refusal by a certain hard-headed female…inflicted upon the poor bastard TWICE._

_P.P.S. I've been wasting my precious energy reserves on attempts to behave, per your heartfelt request, but I've been unable to be the perfect gentleman you want me to be. Last week, I switched all of the forks with spoons during dinner. How was I supposed to know General Creed had invited Foreign Dignitaries to dine that evening? In my defense, have you ever watched someone struggle to eat salad with a spoon? It's bloody hilarious!_

It had been two months since Raina's arrival at Umbridge Court, and her days of tending to Marita's every desire and Carl Jr.'s steadily improving health were drawing to a close. Mrs. Ester Rosenburg would be coming to fetch her in a few days time. It was with tumultuous emotions that she was steeling herself for her return to the Mini Mansion at Kelly Lynch Preparatory University and Conservatory. There would be no escape from Kip Winters when they were sharing the same house, in which a great deal of their romance had taken place so long ago. Her only comfort was the fact that Marcus would be sharing the house, as well.

**From the Desk of a Devoted Aria to the Window-seat of a Wild Marcus:**

_My Dearest Marcus,_

_I will be returning to the Mini Mansion in less than two weeks, and I have yet to begin packing. I realize such a statement is meaningless to someone who does all their packing when they're on the road (i.e. purchasing whatever you need from Wal-Marts you happen to pass along the way), but for me, who thrives on preparing for significant life events years in advance, this is a perfect illustration of my current state of tumult. I have been so preoccupied with processing a horrific piece of news I gleaned from eavesdropping, accidentally on purpose, upon a conversation between Kip Winters and Lonnie Matthews, I completely forgot to pack._

_Lonnie claims that her parents haven't given up on the fantasy of me and Carl, and that Mrs. Ester Rosenburg convinced me to turn down Carl because he was not scholarly enough. Carl Matthews is a lawyer! How much more educated can you get? Mrs. Ester Rosenburg doesn't possess the mean streak required to convince someone to turn down a wedding proposal. Especially someone as influential as Carl Matthews! In fact, she was crushed that I had refused him. I suppose there is no reason for getting my panties all in a twist over anything believed to be true by Lonnie Matthews. I know that's what you would sagely advise were you here._

_All my love,_

_Aria Edwards_

_P.S. The next time you switch the silverware, replace the forks with toothpicks, instead of spoons._

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: This chapter wasn't my finest hour, and I hate the fact that most of the important information is revealed in the form of letters, but future comprehensiveness of the story demanded that this chapter be short. Thanks for reading, and please review.


	5. Chapter 5

During the final week of Aria's stay at Umbridge Court, Kip Winters was mysteriously absent from dinner and golf games with Carl. He regaled his captive audience, on the eve of his return, with tales of a letter he had received from his first boss at the FBI, Special Agent Hart. Special Agent Hart was dying of liver cancer. Kip had gone to visit him, one last time, at his home in the booming metropolis of Lynn. Heather and Lonnie were chomping at the bit to experience the marvels of Lynn for themselves, so Kip wholeheartedly enthused that they must all visit Special Agent Hart in the very near future, as Special Agent Hart had longed to meet all of Kip's companions from Umbridge Court and the Grand Hotel.

The original plan was to drive to Lynn in the morning, sight-see during the afternoon, and return to Umbridge Court that night, but even the most experienced Tourist knows that attempting to view every must-see sight in a single day is sheer lunacy. It was then resolved that they must stay overnight in Lynn and return to Umbridge Court the following afternoon.

As it was November, and Lynn was a coastal community, none of the Summer Festivals were taking place, but the Umbridge Courtians were delighted by their stroll amongst the docks, beside the seashore, and throughout the impressive architecture. It seemed that barely a minute had passed before Kip Winters approached them with Special Agent Hart and Mr. Bruno in tow.

Captain Hart was frail, and his skin had lost the majority of its color. He laboriously inched along with a slight limp. His wife was plump, haggard from years of caring for her ornery husband, and had merrily-twinkling eyes. Mr. Bruno was bespectacled, deliciously tan, and shorter than Kip. He had perpetually furrowed brows, a mouth that was set in a grim line, and a black beret balanced on his head at a jaunty angle. His shoulders sagged, and his mahogany eyes had lost their luster.

Mr. Bruno had been married to Special Agent Hart's sister. Following his wife's death, he had moved in with the Harts to help Mrs. Hart care for his brother-in-law. Mr. Bruno was of the mindset that one never gets a second chance at True Love. Aria inwardly dismissed this logic with the snippy prediction that because Mr. Bruno was a few years younger than her, he had plenty of time to find a second Special Someone. Regardless of this difference of opinion, Aria was immediately fond of Mr. Bruno, as Kip had spoken so admirably of them. She forced herself to repress the thought that she would have been even dearer friends with them had she accepted Kip's proposal five years before.

After a brief stop at the Harts' home, Aria was astonished by the level of comfort and gaiety one could achieve in such cramped surroundings. Cardboard boxes used for transporting appliances were larger than this house. Special Agent Hart, though not a reader himself, had crafted magnificent shelves for Mr. Bruno's vast library. Special Agent Hart spent his free time, when he wasn't undergoing chemotherapy, constructing Lego Cities, for the neighborhood children to play with, and hammocks for the senior citizens in the area. Aria's heart swelled with sorrow that such a loving individual as Special Agent Hart had fallen victim to such a ghastly disease.

Aria spent dinner with Mr. Bruno. Though timid at first, Mr. Bruno was charmed into friendliness by Aria's compassion. Eventually, he began to fervently preach about the glory that is poetry. They compared the genius of Dr. Seuss with the majesty and depth of Dickens. Aria was asked to recommend novels that would increase his perpetual state of melancholy, and the visit concluded with Aria contemplating her worthiness to recommend anything to anyone, particularly someone whose intelligence far surpassed her own.

The next morning, Raina and Heather ventured down to the beach, while waiting for the breakfast preparations to be completed. Heather launched into a lengthy discourse about Clarence father's refusal to hand the reigns of his business over to Clarence NOW. Aria indulgently remarked that as soon as Mr. Howard was ready to turn the agency over to his son, Clarence would certainly have the ideal wife by his side to help him run things. Heather philosophically commented that if only Mrs. Ester Rosenburg were among them, Mr. Howard couldn't help but realize that retiring sooner rather than later would benefit all parties involved. Mrs. Ester Rosenburg, Heather declared, had the capacity to convince ANYONE of ANYTHING.

On the steps of the Motel 6 where they had chosen to crash for the night (i.e. Marita was had such overwhelming confidence that the name "Marita Matthews" was world renown, she couldn't be bothered to make a reservation anywhere classier, so every other lodging they tried was booked solid until the middle of next year), a dashing youth paused in his descent to pointedly undress Aria with his eyes. Kip winked seductively in Aria's direction, inclining his head none-too-subtly in a that-bloke-just-invited-you-to-come-hither gesture so reminiscent of Marcus, Aria's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Kip's jaw dropped at the sheer magnitude of Aria's momentary resemblance to herself at nineteen.

Entering the corridor leading to the "Breakfast Nook," Aria was privileged to plow into the Mysterious Stranger who had ogled her so blatantly on the steps. As a testament to his superior breeding, he accepted all blame for the incident, despite her flurry of protestations that she hadn't been paying attention to where she was going, and soothed her discomfort with a roguish grin, as only Marcus and Kip could have done.

Mid-breakfast, a Stretch-Limousine pulled up alongside the curb in front of the Lobby Entrance; a white-gloved, tuxedo-clad gentlemen pompously assisted Mysterious Stranger from the Steps into the backseat. Eyes twinkling curiously, Aria questioned the clerk at the Front Desk about the identity of Mysterious Stranger from the Steps. He was not Bond… James Bond, as Marcus would have sarcastically supplied, but Rex Evans.

Rex Evans, Mrs. Ester Rosenburg had murderously spat over Aria's final breakfast at the Mini Mansion prior to her stay at Umbridge Court, intended to take the Deanship of Kelly Lynch Preparatory University and Conservatory, or Claremont University, from Mr. Waldon Edwards. He had a vision, Mrs. Ester Rosenburg venomously expounded, of creating a university designed to train 18-22-year old lads about being businessmen, but not just any businessmen; oh no!; they were to become corrupt, powerful businessmen. Mr. Waldon Edwards had vowed that Rex Evans would never lay a finger on any university in which he happened to be Dean. If her father needed her support in his campaign against Rex Evans, Aria had instantly sworn to commit herself to loathing Rex Evens, as well.

Marita exploded over the news that an enemy of her father's would dare show his face in public, without tattooing his name and his crimes upon his forehead. Aria remained mum on the subject; for she had her suspicions that Rex Evans was pursuing such a hostile takeover of the universities her father loved because of the kibosh Mr. Waldon Edwards put on the scandalous relationship he'd had with Elianna several years ago. Elianna may have seemed like Daddy's Little Princess by day, but by night, she was Daddy's Little Whore, engaging in multiple One Night Stands with various guys.

The Harts and Mr. Bruno had insisted upon joining them for a final walking tour of Lynn that afternoon, offering Marita an ample opportunity to unleash a torrent of bitching and moaning about the audacity of Rex Evans upon the Harts, while Aria and Mr. Bruno lagged leisurely behind them. Not only was he interested in poetry, it seemed; as a director, who had lived in LA until the death of his wife, he had developed a love of films. His gut-wrenching rendition of Rose's "I'll never let go, Jack" monologue from Titanic gave her goose bumps. Special Agent Hart sneakily released his wife's hand and skulked backwards a few paces to match strides with the captivated Aria. He slyly whispered into her ear that time, and herself, could work miracles for Mr. Bruno. Aria failed to grasp his meaning.

Lonnie, meanwhile, had adopted the habit of clasping Kip's hand and sailing gracefully from the highest structures she could reach (fences, rooftops, backs of marauding, strategically positioned moose(s)). Without a care in the world, Lonnie hurtled herself from just such a structure and plummeted to earth, with a deafening CRAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCK, upon the rotting planks of the pier below.

Lonnie's prone, unconscious form was transported to Harts' by the utterly frantic Kip and Carl, whose respective anxiety was compounded beyond measure by the theatrical fainting spells of Heather and Marita. Mr. Bruno comforted Aria with a side-splittingly hilarious re-enactment of how Bridget Jones would behave in a similar situation, as the Harts offered assurances that the Paramedics would be knocking on the door before they knew it. Carl sought Aria's guidance throughout the ordeal. In the midst of his half-baked lunacy, Carl had managed to recall that a framed Medical Degree hung above Aria's bed at the Mini Mansion; however, he failed to remember that the trinket had been a Gag-Gift from Marcus, and she was not qualified to give medical advice.

Lonnie was gingerly deposited on the sofa in the Sitting Room, as Paramedics surged into the sardine-can-sized dwelling. Aria was terrified that such a mass of people one pea-sized room would surely suck up all the oxygen, causing them all to suffocate. Fortunately, Raina's framed Medical Degree did not symbolize her expertise in such areas as suffocation. Lonnie was diligently examined and pronounced, much to the relief of all who had witnessed the catastrophic event, in perfect health (other than her self-inflicted concussion), and a trip to the hospital for further analysis was deemed unnecessary, as long as she had plenty of rest, and was moved as little as possible.

In a tempest of agitation and frustration, Kip immediately volunteered to inform the Matthews Family of Lonnie's condition, via a rental car from the Avis located kitty-corner to the Motel 6. Everyone else would return to Umbridge Court in Carl's BMW. Aria would stay in Lynn to help (with the supervision of Mrs. Hart). Kip positively beamed as he described Aria's innate talent for nurturing, but was rudely jolted from this reverie by Marita's caterwauling that the burden of nursemaid should be placed squarely upon her shoulders. Although she would miss her husband dreadfully, what was Aria to anyone but a massive pain in the ass? Surely, Lonnie would heal instantly under her care!

**From the Pen of Aria to the Eyes of Marcus:**

_My Dearest Marcus,_

_What I wouldn't give to lounge with you amongst the branches of our tree, to dangle my feet into the pristine waters of the Kelly Lynch Preparatory University and Conservatory Fountain (our special place), to sell un-sweetened lemonade to unsuspecting passersby, to support your campaign to protest the impending retirement of the most adored Lunch Lady. Kip Winters has spoken to me DIRECTLY once and praised me once since my last postcard. Five years has altered nothing between us, so take your "He still wants you," shtick and bloody shove it!_

_As you had foreseen, Lonnie Matthews FINALLY proved herself to be one of the duller crayons in the box. She had the gall to give herself a concussion the other day, and Kip Winters recruited me to nurse her back to health. Then, Kip Winters requested MY opinion about his scheme for me to wait in the car with Heather, while he broke the news to Mr. and Mrs. Matthews. Heather, you see, is in such a tizzy, that she is unable to so much as look at Lonnie without experiencing heart palpations and anxiety attacks of the most severe nature._

_All my love,_

_Aria Edwards_

_P.S. I realize that instead of shoving your theories about Kip Winters and me, you are probably prancing about my room, bellowing them at the top of your lungs. I beg you to desist at once. The urgency of Kip Winters' tone, and the tears cascading down his cheeks whenever Lonnie is mentioned, is proof enough to whom his heart belongs._

_P.P.S. Since coming to Lynn I have enjoyed romantic entanglements with two men besides Kip Winters. Mr. Bruno amuses me immensely with his recitations of scenes from movies, and Rex Evans (my father's archnemesis) propositioned me with his eyes. As you can tell, my opportunities for turning down proposals are endless._


	6. Chapter 6

In Aria's final forty-eight hours at Umbridge Court, she became the Semi-Silent Savior. With a minimum of fifteen words, she convinced Carl and Marita to return to Lynn until Lonnie recovered, if only to entertain the Harts' children while Mrs. Hart nursed Lonnie.

When Mrs. Ester Rosenburg reentered Aria's Universe, which had been so focused upon happenings at Umbridge Court, Aria couldn't help viewing her arrival as an intrusion. Aria awkwardly blubbered about Lonnie's tragedy while under the supervision of Kip Winters, and Mrs. Ester Rosenburg was vindicated that any man who would allow such things to happen to his female companion wasn't worth the love of her precious Aria. She momentarily forgave Aria for acknowledging Kip's existence, and all was right with the world.

First on the agenda for Aria and Mrs. Ester Rosenburg was a visit to the Creeds at the Mini Mansion. General Creed proclaimed that she was free to roam through the house as she pleased, after jubilantly declaring that they would be leaving the Mini Mansion very soon for the Annual Creed Family Reunion in Boston. Farewell Kip-induced terrors, Raina triumphantly crowed to herself!

Feeling as if she was invading the Creeds' privacy, Aria tip-toed up the stairs (deftly dodging the creaky step, third one from the top), trailing her fingertips over the ornate banister. Marcus was prostrate on what-used-to-be her window-seat, limbs sprawled haphazardly, studying a mountain of pornographic magazines… as if she had never abandoned him for Umbridge Court, and the Mini Mansion had never been rented by the Creeds.

Marcus lazily drawled, "The difference the Creeds have made in this hellhole is totally surreal. The General getting rid of your Old Man's collection of mirrors worked wonders. Honestly, I'd never seen my ass from so many atrocious angles before I met you."

Aria threw her arms around his neck. "I'm still waiting for that glorious day when you realize you have your own family that has been deprived of viewing your ass from ANY angle, since the day we met."

The first verbal barbs behind them, nothing else of mirrors and ass-angles needed to be spoken of. Aria merely stared into the depths of Marcus's amber eyes; he reciprocated the staring; they burst into gasps of mirth that left them breathless; the momentary awkwardness that had passed between them in their first few seconds of sharing the same space disappeared. All was as it should be between them.

The remainder of the trip to the Mini Mansion was heavenly, as the Creeds were sincerely interested in her thoughts and feelings in a way no one but Marcus and Mrs. Ester Rosenburg had ever been. They never crassly informed her that she was worthless, but encouraged her to share her views about the weather and religion and politics and their refurnishing of the Mini Mansion. They even offered her samples of their finest deserts with the afternoon coffee. It was with a heavy heart that Aria said her goodbyes. Her spirits soared with the knowledge that Marcus would be returning to Umbridge Court with Mrs. Ester Rosenburg to celebrate Christmas, but plummeted again at the reality of Boston.

Aria had been comfortably (for the first time) settled at Umbridge Court for about two weeks when Carl telephoned with the latest news about Lonnie. Lonnie, Carl was thrilled to report, had made quite splendid headway in her recovery. She was able to adjust herself to a sitting position in the bed the Harts had given her during her stay at their home. Though occasionally overcome by nausea if she sat up too long, she could feed herself, was fond of lengthy conversations, and insisted on exchanging her flannel pajamas for sweatpants and a T-shirt at least three times a week.

Satisfied that Lonnie had been taken care of to the best of their ability, Carl and Marita decided the time had come for them to return to Umbridge Court. Marita sashayed into the foyer (where the temporary tenants of Umbridge Court had gathered at the sound of their approaching vehicle), Carl staggering (beneath a tower of luggage) behind her, as she bubbled about her indispensability to Mrs. Hart during Lonnie's Hour of Greatest Need.

With a mighty "OOF," Carl heedlessly sent the luggage tumbling to the floor, announcing that he'd had an epiphany. Mr. Bruno had agreed to join Carl for a game of golf, Carl believed, in the hopes of seeing Aria again. Marita majestically sneered that no one in their right mind would go to such trouble for Aria. Carl snidely interjected that Mr. Bruno's flimsy excuse for breaking his promise was that he had never played before; Mr. Bruno had even given Carl an in-depth synopsis of one of Aria's favorite books as a last resort to distract him from said golf game. Carl concluded that Mr. Bruno praised Aria so passionately, wherever he found anyone willing to listen to him, that Carl took pity on the young man and rewarded his Romantic Affliction with the address of the Mini Mansion.

Marita sniffed regally that only a scumbag of the worst sort would turn to Aria for comfort six months after his wife's death. Mrs. Ester Rosenburg knowingly chuckled that any "friend" of Aria's was a friend of her's (although, when Mr. Bruno had yet to visit the Mini Mansion a week after receiving the address, Mrs. Ester Rosenburg deemed him "That vile Bruno Bastard."). When Marita ranted about the Rex Evans Sighting, Mrs. Ester Rosenburg growled with explosive finality at Marita never to refer to HIM again, and the discussion ended immediately.

At last, Christmas Eve arrived, with stockings, eggnog, multi-colored ornaments, and Aria's parting shot at Marcus. They had clustered about the tree, the Matthews Family, Carl and Marita, the zoo of children, Mrs. Ester Rosenburg, and Marcus, when Aria slunk away (unheeded of course) in a haze of tinsel and wrapping paper. She trudged morosely to her room and dejectedly lit a fire in the miniscule fireplace.

Marcus crept up behind her, ginormous mug of hot chocolate and oversized quilt in tow, but Aria instinctively snapped at him to keep the hot chocolate in the cup, rather than dumping it onto her head, as had been their Special Yuletide Tradition for the last seventeen years, if he valued his life. He didn't bother asking how she'd known it was him because they had been best friends for so long that the stupid questions weren't necessary anymore.

Marcus coyly dangled a sprig of mistletoe over their heads. Off her bamboozled expression, he smirked that she had been secretly yearning to snog him senseless for years, so she may as well get on with it. Aria theatrically complied, for about two seconds, before sobbing and gasping and spluttering unattractively. He said nothing, simply draped his arm about her shoulders, tucked the blanket over her, and placed the mug in her hands. Such is the nature of best friends. Sometimes the words that are most meaningful are best exchanged in silence.


	7. Chapter 7

The awe-inspiring sights and overpowering sounds of Boston passed in a blur so overwhelming that Aria didn't even make a half-assed attempted at processing all that was transpiring outside of her window. She and Mrs. Ester Rosenburg had been jammed into the same heinously cramped, bench-like seating of the Evington Express Train for two days now. "Two days! Express my ass," Marcus would have chortled. Aria felt the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, but stoically reminded herself to shelve the Marcus Memories for a later date. She must make herself as at home as possible in Boston before allowing her thoughts to wander to the Mini Mansion and all she had held so dear. Mrs. Ester Rosenburg gurgled shrilly in her sleep, as Aria wiped a single teardrop from her cheek with a glove-encased fingertip, prior to turning her attention to the single sheet of paper resting gently across her lap.

Aria scrutinized the letter in her hands, yet again, with ever-widening eyes. The roses had faded from her cheeks, as the impish laugh-lines about the corners of her eyes instantly withered. Absentmindedly, she stared at her sister's most treasured stationary. Rex Evans was in Boston and had basically been stalking Mr. Waldon Edwards and Elianna. Aria hadn't made any vows to herself that she would never sleep until she had seen Rex Evans again, but, should the time come, she wouldn't run screaming in the other direction if the Mysterious Stranger from the Steps approached her.

Aria spent the remainder of the train ride re-reading her letter and swiveling her head every so often when Mrs. Ester Rosenburg emitted a particularly peculiar snore. It was with a heavy heart and leaden feet that Aria primly exited the taxi which had transported her and Mrs. Ester Rosenburg to the Victorian-inspired, three-story building on Westhaven Circle provided by Claremont University.

On the immaculately swept front porch, Aria was transferred from the bear-hug of Mrs. Ester Rosenburg to the awkward embrace of her sister, who, after leading her into the house, grudgingly nudged her toward the most comfortable piece of furniture in the Sitting Room. Silently, they waited for dinner to be prepared and placed on the table in the Grand Ballroom by an army of servants who had come with the house (if the tenants were willing to shell out an extra $20,000 that is).

Elianna and Mr. Waldon Edwards were delighted to have Aria as an audience for Elianna's boasting about the newest editions to her wardrobe, Mr. Waldon Edward's bragging about programs he had initiated to benefit his newest batch of students, and Mrs. Cross's pride over the sensation created whenever she busted out pictures of her children. Claremont University exceeded Kelly Lynch Preparatory University and Conservatory in every way, and wasn't Aria's curiosity piqued by the ballets to be seen, rather than the fate of those left behind at Umbridge Court? Wasn't she salivating to be in the loop about Rex Edwards? Of course, she could wait to write Marcus's letter? No? Then scamper off, so they would have time to compile more fascinating trivia about Boston to impress her with when she returned.

Grimly, Aria refused to budge from her slumped pose in the recliner (there was no guarantee that she would be allowed the luxury of being near it ever again), musing to herself that Rex Evans was seeking Mr. Waldon Edwards's friendship now that he was wealthy enough to date Elianna. Satisfied that they had showed an adequate amount of interest in Aria, Mr. Waldon Edwards and Elianna began chatting about the friends they had made in Boston.

The warmth of familiarity coiled from the top of Aria's head to the tips of her toes. Being cast aside was a truly blissful reminder of the good old days at the Mini Mansion. She felt her first twinge of belonging since her last glimpse of Marcus through the rear window of the taxi that had brought her and Mrs. Ester Rosenburg to the Evington Train Station. Suddenly, a bell chimed elsewhere in the house to announce that dinner was served.

Through the muddled fog blanketing Aria's brain, the only sound clearly distinguishable was the solemn scraping of her fork against the Finest Edwards China, as she numbly caused her peas to skitter across the tasteful floral pattern. Unbridled rage roiled within her dainty frame; mechanically she ground her teeth; Marcus had been literally ripped, kicking and screaming naturally (ever the Thespian, that Reese Chap!), from an embrace impossible to break with the Jaws of Life less than seventy-two hours before, and all her father was concerned with were the amount of ugly folks roaming the streets of Boston. Aria tuned him out mid-anecdote about the swooning endured by every Boston Woman who happened to cross the path of himself and one of his cronies, Colonel Walsh, from Melburne Avenue.

An urgent knocking at the front door proved to be Aria's saving grace, as Elianna catapulted from her chair (completely ignoring her father's screeching that the chair was an antique), in order to be the first to welcome their unexpected visitor. Aria found herself teetering on the edge of guffawing and gasping at the sight of the gentleman striding through the entrance of the Ball Room, arm hooked debonairly through Elianna's. There was no mistaking the shaggy mane of auburn hair gelled to perfection, the striking chestnut eyes, the confident stance, the immaculately groomed mustache, and the humble beginnings of an admirable goatee. Rex Evans, Aria's Mysterious Stranger from the Steps, had breezed into her life yet again. Perhaps this time they would be able to avoid a collision.

Rex Evans started abruptly at the sight of the young lady whose blooming cheeks and captivating hazel eyes had plagued him since his stay at Lynn's Motel 6. Hastily, he repressed the urge to gape, his chiseled face luminous with exhilaration over seeing her again. Mrs. Cross reclined smugly in her place at the end of the table, fishing photographs of her children from her sequined handbag (she and Elianna had purchased matching one's just the other day during a sojourn to High Street) in preparation for shoving them under Rex Evans' nose. Mrs. Cross had predicted that Rex Evans would drop by that evening, but, as usual, every syllable she uttered which didn't pertain to Elianna was ignored.

Gingerly taking Aria's dainty hand between his masculine ones, he introduced himself, expressing his astonishment that they had seen each other in Lynn, but had never had the chance to be properly introduced. He admitted that he had been in the room across the hall from theirs, had heard their laughter through the paper-thin walls, and wanted to invite himself in, but felt that doing so would be improper. She shyly placated him that if he had asked to join them, he would have been welcomed without hesitation, while silently adding to herself that he would have been welcomed before Marita had known that he was their father's opposition.

He remained with them until eleven that night, in order to straighten out all the rumors that had caused such hostility between himself and Mr. Waldon Edwards. A member of the Claremont University Board had told him that Mr. Waldon Edwards and said that his lifelong ambition was keeping Rex Evans from becoming the Dean of any university because of his corrupt personal agenda. Mr. Waldon Edwards had heard from a member of the Kelly Lynch Preparatory University and Conservatory Board that Rex Evans had said that his lifelong ambition was overthrowing Mr. Waldon Edwards at every university he worked for. Rumors had destroyed a potentially lifelong friendship, but would do so no more, Rex Evans declared, banging his fist on the Sitting Room table to emphasize his point. Mr. Waldon Edwards refrained from muttering that the Sitting Room table was ALSO an antique.

Aria slyly scrutinized Rex Evans through her peripheral vision. He was no Special Agent Kip Winters in manners of speech; Kip never insulted anyone, and Rex Evans was very vulgar toward the members of the Kelly Lynch Preparatory University and Conservator and the Claremont University Boards who had caused such squabbling between Mr. Waldon Edwards and himself. He was no Marcus Emilio Reese in humor. He was no Mr. Bruno in Mantra of Constant Moroseness. He was no Carl Matthews in addiction to golf. He was no moose in mannerisms unique to moose(s). However, when she had been with him, he didn't yearn for her to be elsewhere. He had been thrilled to see her, which was more than she could say for basically every other member of her family. Aria concluded that she could become fond of Rex Evans, and left her dust-encrusted chair in the corner to trail behind the others as he was escorted to the front door.

**From the Discomfort of Aria to the Enlightenment of Marcus:**

_My Dearest Marcus,_

_I was making breakfast for myself the other day (I am beginning to suppose that my father and sister have bribed the servants into forgetting that I am here, as my bed is never made, my baths are never drawn, my clothes are never laid out, not even a crumb of my favorite foods are to be found anywhere within the seventy-five rooms in this place, etc.), and I completely forgot how I liked my eggs. You've been cooking for me for so long now that I'm too spoiled to recall if I even like eggs._

_There is a much more dire storm a-brewing here than eggs, I fear. Dire Storm's name is Mrs. Cross. Elianna snidely blames me for Mrs. Cross's feelings of uselessness, which just happened to become an issue when I arrived. Mrs. Cross just pouts, until my father reassures her that she is useful TO HIM, or some such bullshit that I refuse to pay attention to. Besides, he purrs at her, Colonel and Mrs. Walsh will be visiting soon, and she can't disappoint them by not being there._

_He even attempted to persuade me into flattering her by COMPLIMENTING my beauty and complexion. I will never be attractive, he assured me, but, for as good as I can ever hope to look, I'm coming along quite nicely._

_If you were here, you would snort derisively that I should throw him a parade in honor of the temporary insanity that inspired him to be nice to anyone other than Elianna. If only you WERE here, instead of that loathsome Mrs. Cross. I am absolutely terrified that my father will marry her…just to spite me for daring to breathe. Mrs. Ester Rosenburg has never said as much, but I am certain she agrees with me, and Mrs. Ester Rosenburg, as you well know, has never been wrong about anyone._

_All my love,_

_Aria Edwards_

_P.S. One of my Possible Proposals I spoke to you about before (in my letter about Lonnie's accident) has waltzed back into my life. Rex Evans (my father's competition for the position of Dean at Claremont University) has convinced my father that all of the animosity between them was caused by rumors. He's been spending so much time at our house that it's as if he's become one of the family. Even Mrs. Ester Rosenburg can't remember why she used to hate him. I think he's sticking around because he believes father will let him marry Elianna. She can marry the mailman for all I care, as long as it gets her the hell off my back. Mrs. Ester Rosenburg always praises him for being humble and proud of it. I have absolutely no idea what that means, but I do know that Rex Evans is way too obsessed with being a member of the "Elite," as if we were trapped in the middle of a Jane Austen novel, or something. You should have seen the Glare of Death he gave the McDonald's employee who had the gall to tell him to "have a nice day."_

_P. P.S. If Mrs. Cross becomes my wicked stepmother, you can avenge me. I might even permit you to take advantage of all the fireworks we have collected on the sly over the years._

_Aria had finally begun to feel at home on Westhaven Circle (the lack of moose, countless visits from Rex Evans, and practically daily wake-up calls, consisting of Oz Fest reruns on VH1, from Marcus helped immensely), when she was confronted by yet another dropping of a familial bomb._

_The front page of the __Boston Globe announced that Supreme Court Justice Vivien Deacon, and her daughter Hope-Catherine, would be coming to Claremont University to give speak at this year's Graduation Ceremony._

_Mr. Waldon Edwards, as was to be expected, was outraged. How dare the reporter who had interviewed Supreme Court Justice Deacon, and Hope-Catherine, neglect to give credit to the cousins who were certainly deserving of sainthood for offering them a roof over their heads while they were in Boston? The public needed to be enlightened about the depth of the generosity of the Beloved Dean of Claremont University._

_Mr. Waldon Edwards had still not forgiven the Deacons for the interview when they bumbled into the Westhaven Circle Sitting Room, yammering at warp-speed about their journey from Washington. He venomously muttered so many curse words at every comment or questioned directed his way, Aria was convinced that God would strike him down with a lightening bolt for his vulgarity. She had never heard such vile terminology in her life, and she had been living among college students and cable television since birth. Mumbling an excuse of needing to use the restroom, she fled from the room, and was justifiably flabbergasted that the Deacons and her father were chatting, sailor-language free, as if they had been the best of friends their whole lives, when she returned._

_When the Deacons had staggered up to their rooms, due to exhaustion from the trip, Mrs. Ester Rosenburg and Rex Evans decided that they were decent people, but not worthy of the honors they received because of Supreme Court Justice Vivien Deacon's political position. Mr. Waldon Edwards wholeheartedly concurred, between puffs from a pipe Aria was certain must have been purchased from Their insults came as no surprise to Aria, who had witnessed Mrs. Deacon's genuine smile at the cab driver and Hope-Catherine's collision with the mailbox on her way to the front door. Hope-Catherine had also been plagued with such transparent skin, every vein was visible. No one who showed politeness to "commoners," or possessed absolutely no attractive physical qualities, would ever be accepted by Mr. Waldon Edwards._

_From the Irritation of Aria to the Mock-Sympathy of Marcus:_

_My Dearest Marcus,_

_I have just had the "pleasure" of being introduced to my father's cousin, Supreme Court Justice Vivien Deacon, and her daughter Hope-Catherine. Why, you ask, am I not thrilled that one of my relatives is making such a contribution to society? Well, I would answer, this is just another excuse for my father to brag, and another excuse for Rex Evans to rant and rave about the "Elite" having to respect the "Common Folk," and another reason for me to get migraines because of my father's constant bitching and moaning about the Deacons' politeness toward everyone._

_Apparently, the foundation of my father's rage against Supreme Court Justice Deacon comes from a quarrel he had with her husband Victor. Victor insulted my father's Man Bag by calling it a purse. My father insisted that Man Bags were all the rage, but Victor kept teasing my father about his homosexual tendencies, so my father stopped speaking to Victor and his family after that. Sadly, I remember when Man Bags were the hippest trend._

_Of course, my father wasn't about to permanently ignore someone as powerful as Supreme Court Justice Vivien Deacon, so when she asked for a place to stay while she and Hope-Catherine were in Boston, my father wasn't about to send her ass packing to the nearest hotel. I believe I love you so much, Marcus, because you would never let Man Bags stand in the way of friendship._

_All my love,_

_Aria Edwards_

_P.S. I am writing this letter from the swing in the garden. This swing happens to be located beneath a tree that is very much like ours'. I am here because this is the best place to recompose myself after the conversation Rex Evans and I had during our walk this morning. He asked me if I could ever love someone like him._

_Don't get too cocky, since what I am about to write is hardly proof of what you have been bitching and moaning about for the past five years, but my first thought was, "I could never love someone who wasn't LIKE Kip Winters." Kip Winters truly cares about people and does whatever he can to make their lives better. Rex Evans truly cares about people and does whatever he can to make their lives better… if they can boost his Popularity Points. I could never love someone who was such an arrogant asshole! Although, he did endear himself to me slightly by commenting that Mrs. Cross deserves sudden death, but a moose could figure that out._


	8. Chapter 8

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I am beginning this chapter with a flashback. Thanks for reading, and don't forget... REVIEWS ARE APPRECIATED!

_**It had been a day just like every other day for Marcus Emilio Reese. He had woken up at four in the afternoon, studied his dirty magazines on the window-seat for awhile, scarfed down the few crusts that were left from the pizza the Creeds had eaten the night before, took a swig of milk (right out of the cartoon), shuffled up the stairs and back to his dirty magazines on the window-seat, which he perused until nine o'clock (when the Creeds' Chinese Take-out leftovers were free for the taking), crept up the stairs, into Aria's room, prepared to collapse on the window-seat, and discovered that Kip Winters was already there. So much for it being just like every other day!**_

_**"Let me see if I can figure out this mind game you've been playing with me. You don't call for five years, even though I've wasted my life waiting for you, and then you have the balls to show up here, expecting everything to be the same between us. YOU ARE A TWISTED BASTARD!"**_

_**"I've missed you too, Marcus, but that's not why I'm here. Aria needs you in Boston… NOW! She won't admit it of course, because we're not exactly on speaking terms at the moment, but the only thing I've ever been sure of when it comes to Aria is that she can't survive without you.**_

_**Kip stormed off in a huff, slamming the door deafeningly behind him, before Marcus had the opportunity to form the words, "She can't survive without you either, Man."**_

Aria craned her neck heavenward for a more optimum view of the Willow Bend Apartments. Graffiti snaked and looped along the length of each building; window panes had been shattered; every clunker of a car in the parking lot had been riddled with bullet holes; children in tattered clothes scampered about in the street, or played with cardboard boxes on various balconies; cats yowled; dogs howled; babies cried; elderly couples amassed on the sidewalks, frantically fanning themselves, while grousing that every air conditioner in the place had been busted for years.

She had not been aware that Boston possessed a ghetto, until Elianna snobbishly stated that she had heard that one of their friends from the good old days of Bridgeport Middle School was living in the Willow Bend Apartments, and the Willow Bend Apartments had a horrendously scandalous history of poverty, violence, mafia, drugs, booze, loose women, and torrid affairs of political officials and religious leaders.

Aria was horrified that one of Elianna's friends (who would all be married to senators and having tea parties in twenty years) would hit the kind of Rock Bottom that lead to living in the ghetto, but Elianna snottily corrected her that the friend in question was Sophia Smitz. Sophia Smitz had been Aria's second best friend during the Dark Days following her mother's death.

Tentatively, Aria ascended the rickety, mysteriously-stained steps, anxiously clenching her teeth, as she tapped her knuckles against the peeling paint of the door to 7G. The aforementioned door was violently thrust outward, hurtling Aria against the opposite wall of the narrow hallway. Gasping for breath, Aria clawed at the wall in an effort to regain her balance. Infuriated, she smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt and menacingly advanced upon whoever had attacked her with the door. She stopped in her tracks at the sight of her sandy-haired, amber-eyed, hoodie-wearing best friend.

In a total Soap Opera Moment, Aria hurled herself into Marcus's waiting arms, but, lurched backward at the realization that Marcus had been so close, but hadn't come to see her; then the flood of melodramatic tears began, and she crumpled to the concrete floor directly on her ass. Marcus raced to her side, lifted her to her high-heeled-clad feet (not the brightest decision for a walking tour of Boston's ghetto), and wryly smirked that THANK GOD HE HADN'T NEARLY ASSASSINATED THE LANDLORD ON A MISSION TO COLLECT SOPHIA'S RENT. Jaw jutted defiantly, Aria hooked her arm through his, as he ushered her into 7G.

Sophia Smitz's portion of the Willow Bend Apartments was the equivalent of a sauna with furniture that would be more efficiently put to use as kindling. Marcus joked that if Aria wanted to experience the grand tour, well, she'd done that simply by entering the room. With a stove a stove and refrigerator jammed into a corner, a battered pull-out sofa, and a TV the size of a new-born kitten, Sophia Smitz whiled away her days, wheelchair-bound. The bathrooms, Sophia expounded, were communal, in the basement, and frequented by cockroaches the size of double-decker busses. The nearest available facility for cleaning one's clothes was four hours away…by plane. Statistically, Sophia nervously continued, five people per floor were murdered every hour… on a good day. Aria convulsed involuntarily at the thought of Sophia Smitz facing an assailant who intended to execute her. The only bodily harm she could inflict from a wheelchair was rolling over his toe.

The Sophia Smitz of years gone by had been one of those people who would talk to you without ever expecting an answer; as long as they could hear themselves prattle, they felt they had achieved Nirvana. The Sophia Smitz of the present had her eyes perpetually downcast; she trembled uncontrollably whenever prompted to speak; and her aquamarine eyes had lost their mischievous glint. The Sophia Smitz of years gone by had been forever out of doors, climbing trees, tumbling in the mud, thoroughly trouncing the local boys at whatever game they devised. The Sophia Smitz of the present was twenty-three, had recently lost her fiancée in the tragic automobile accident that had resulted in her two broken legs, a broken arm, numerous fractured ribs, countless bruises, and a punctured lung. The Sophia Smitz of the present couldn't mask the ear-to-ear grin, which involuntarily materialized whenever Marcus Emilio Reese was near.

Aria glared accusingly at her smitten best friend. He retorted with a snarky smirk as if to say, "This may not be a Jane Austen novel, Sweetheart, but I'm still THE MAN, and as THE MAN, all females are powerless when it comes to resisting my charms! That kiss we shared over Christmas… you know you there's more where that came from; all you have to do is ask and ye shall receive." Marcus Emilio Reese possessed the uncanny knack for conveying extremely layered messages with the minutest twitch of his mouth.

When Sophia awkwardly inched her wheelchair out of the room, on the pretext of "checking her mail," Aria viciously pounced. She was too torn between, "Why the hell didn't you tell me you were in Boston, Bastard!" and "Why the hell didn't you tell me you were still carrying that enormous torch for Sophia Smitz, Bastard!" to comprehensively utter anything but an unladylike plethora of grunts. Marcus telepathically grasped what she was incapable of conveying, as he had for the past seventeen years, and archly chuckled that the fact that he had been attached to her at the hip for nearly two decades certainly didn't mean that his universe revolved solely around her. There were other people, like Sophia Smitz for instance, who meant the world to him.

When Sophia returned with a bundle of magazines balanced on her lap, Marcus regally commanded Aria to guide them through the Quizzes of the Month.

Several hours passed as quickly as the movement of a hummingbird's wings, and Aria promised to come again, as soon as she could escape from her father's clutches. Visit again she did, and again, and again, and again, until the evening when Mr. Waldon Edwards nearly combusted after Aria announced that she would not be joining the rest of the family on their outing in Boston's Cultural District, as she had already made plans with an old friend.

Mr. Waldon Edwards predictably snarled that Aria was disgracing herself by hanging out with anyone who lived at the Willow Bend Apartments, as well as Marcus Emilio Resse; Elianna predictably snarled that Aria was disgracing herself simply by being who she was; Mrs. Ester Rosenburg predictably snarled that Aria was giving the Edwards Family a positive reputation by reaching out to the less fortunate; Aria found comfort in the fact that, even though his father turned up his nose at anyone with less money than himself, he continued to pal around with Mrs. Cross. The debate ended with Aria being scorned by her father and Elianna, supported by Mrs. Ester Rosenburg, and taking the bus to the Willow Bend Apartments despite everyone else's opinion.

Much as Aria appreciated Mrs. Ester Rosenburg's addiction of rushing to her defense, she couldn't help but question her affection for Rex Evans. Aria was greatly disturbed by his past. In his youth, he candidly admitted, he had been an alcoholic, a pimp, a gambler, and a liar. Whenever he passed a drunk, a pimp, a gambler, or a liar on the street, he nodded in their direction and continued on his merry way, without so much as a word of discouragement. Aria couldn't understand how he could watch others making the same mistakes he had without making an effort to stop them; however, what bothered her the most was how Rex Evans could charm everyone he met. There wasn't anything he said or did that didn't make him an immediate favorite of someone. Aria constantly wondered who the REAL Rex Evans was.

**From the Blissful Astonishment of Aria to the Smitten Eyes of Marcus:**

_My Dearest Marcus,_

_I would have delivered this news in person, instead of by mail, but I was afraid you would attempt to assassinate me with the door again, so here's the latest news:_

_I received a letter from Marita this morning, and it seems that while you were somehow stealing Sophia Smitz's heart (and PLEASE NEVER ELABORATE UPON YOUR CHOSEN METHODS FOR DOING SO), Lonnie Matthews was doing the same to Mr. Bruno. They are engaged, and the Matthews Family couldn't be more pleased, probably because someone as dimwitted as Lonnie managed to snag a man at all. I suppose I haven't really forgiven her for batting her eyelashes at Kip until he compared her to a brave leaf. UGH!_

_Marita has forgiven Lonnie for choosing Mr. Bruno over Kip Winters because, unlike Heather, Lonnie won't be getting hitched to a Howard. Marita continued to diss me, as only Marita can, with the pronouncement that Carl's epiphany of Mr. Bruno having a crush on me was a delusion, and she has found immeasurable comfort in the certainty that no gentlemen will ever notice something in more worthy of loving._

_All my love,_

_Aria Edwards_

_P.S. The Creeds are in Boston to celebrate their 27th anniversary and to renew their vows. They were only able to visit a couple of times, as being a Tourist in Boston involves cramming as many things into your schedule as you can. They asked me to tell you that your window-seat misses you desperately. He's hoping I will be able to convince Kip to come to Boston because, according to him, Kip has always spoken of me like he would a favorite younger sister. This statement has caused countless nightmares._

_P.P.S. I've been thinking about this for awhile, and I've decided that since we'll both be in Boston for sometime (you for Sophia, and me, until my Prince Charming miraculously appears; but I'm not holding my breath or anything)… we should probably find a tree here._

_P.P.P.S. I am not thrilled about Lonnie's upcoming marriage to Mr. Bruno because Kip Winters is available again. I am thrilled because Mr. Bruno is a nice young man, who could use some happiness in his life, and if a bimbo can provide that happiness…then more power to him!_


	9. Chapter 9

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: This chapter ends in a flashback, and, more importantly, Jane Austen provides absolutely zero segues in this book, so if you are confused about anything, send a review, and I'll answer your questions to the best of my ability.

Unbeknownst to Aria, Kip Winters didn't need her flattery to convince him to come to Boston. General Creed had already worked his Brother-in-Law Voodoo. During the final hour of Aria's Tuesday afternoon shift at the Claremont University Campus Starbucks, Kip Winters was exiting the Evington Express Train, virtually buried under a tower of luggage. Kip Winters derisively snorted to no one in particular, "Express train my ass."

Aria splayed herself leisurely amongst the uppermost branches of the Redbud Tree in the center of the Westhaven Circle Garden. Dusk had fallen hours before, but Feminine Intuition had convinced her to remain right where she was. Even the raindrops, pelting her like missiles, failed to inspire her to return to the bitching of her sister and the disappointment of her father and the none-too-subtle hints of Mrs. Ester Rosenburg, directed at Rex Evans, that Aria was looking especially lovely at the moment, and wouldn't any man be truly blessed to have her.

Rex Evans always agreed with Mrs. Ester Rosenburg, particularly about Aria's beauty, and Aria was constantly tempted to shriek at Mrs. Ester Rosenburg that her flesh wasn't for sale, so there was no need for all the tactless advertisements about Aria's hair and her skin and her gentle way of interacting with others. Rex Evans had been irritatingly eager lately to lend Aria a hand whenever possible. He held doors open for her; he waited for her to finish her shift at the table in the corner (sometimes for hours); he pulled her chair out from under the table at every meal; he always found creative ways to be near her; he had gotten into the habit of following her around like a lost puppy. Instinctively, she knew she could trust him; he made her skin crawl, and she absolutely hated him for it.

A jaunty whistling snapped her from her reverie; her tranquility evaporated as the whistler drew nearer; a whistler with smoldering ocean-blue eyes and tendrils of ebony plastered to his forehead by what was rapidly becoming a torrential downpour; a whistler who had tugged at her heartstrings since they first met.

With a dumbstruck yelp, Aria tumbled from her branch of choice, collapsing with a piercing shriek on top of none other than Kip Winters. Crimson blotches blanketed every exposed patch of Kip's skin, as Aria, consumed by unbridled shame and horror, found herself rendered immobile. This was not the ideal moment for paralysis, especially since Kip seemed quite as incapacitated in the Forcing Her to Get Off of Him Department as she was in the Forcing Herself to Get Off of Him Department.

On metaphorical pins and needles, they stared each other down, until Aria managed to muster enough saliva to grit that he was looking well. Kip gaped like a fish, stuttering meekly that she was more than welcome to use his umbrella, which seemed to be trapped beneath them at the moment. With what little dignity she had left, Aria rolled off of Kip, mutely offering him the severely mangled remnants of his umbrella.

She had stumbled a few steps in the opposite direction, when Kip tugged tremulously on her sleeve. Aria surveyed him with a haunted expression that nearly stunned him into silence, but he finally found the courage to ask what the hell she was doing in a tree during a storm that had the potential to become a flood. A whimsical smile flitted across Aria's face, before Kip could even be certain that such a smile had occurred, as she admitted that she had been in the tree for Marcus.

"Marcus," he thundered.

Aria, completely unaware of his outburst, dreamily explained, "Marcus and I, we... there was a Redbud Tree on the Kelly Lynch Campus where Marcus and I went whenever we were worried or scared or frustrated or depressed or overwhelmed. I needed to find a place where I could feel close to the people Marcus and I used to be, so I climbed this tree, and I forgot about everything and everyone else. Things have just changed so much between us since we came to Boston. Marcus has Sophia, and I'm alone again."

Kip was on the verge of uttering the life-altering assurance that she wasn't alone, not if she was willing to open her heart to him again, but he settled for the heartbreaking question of, "Marcus…you…you…you love him, don't you?"

Aria's immediate response? "More than anyone."

His resulting stricken expression went unnoticed by his dazed companion. Shoulders sagging in defeat, Kip dejectedly snapped, "Well, I suppose that's all there is to say," and nimbly leapt to the ground, overpriced shoes SQUELCHING deafeningly. Hauling ass (as properly as possible) from the trunk of the Redbud, the morose whimpering of, "more than anyone but you," uttered by the stringy-haired, mud-splattered Aria, was obviously inaudible.

_**"Marcus, Sweetheart, as much as I appreciate all the time you've taken out of your schedule of contributing absolutely nothing to the greater good of society, in order to ahem… "fix…" the garbage disposal. However, waking up to gunk-splattered walls is not the way I wanted to start a Monday. Couldn't you have just made coffee…"**_

_**A tense silence instantly blanketed 7G when Sophia noticed Rex Edwards lounging against the door frame, trademark sneer plastered across his chiseled face.**_

_**"Sophia, Sophia, Sophia," he tsked mockingly, "You have certainly lowered your standards for who you sleep with. Letting a man who can't even fix a garbage disposal into your pants is simply revolting, even for you! Not that you can exactly run away from any unworthy guys right now." He menacingly advanced upon her, lowering himself to her eyelevel. "What would Christopher say about how much you've degraded yourself?"**_

_**Sophia could only gape at the sadistic pleasure he found in her misery, gape and clench her fists, until her stubby fingernails drew blood from her palms. Inraged, she inched toward him, flailing her fists wildly against his knees. He condescendingly patted her head, as she gritted, "Don't you dare mention Christopher's name, you… you… BACSTABBING ASSHOLE! You didn't deserve to breathe the same air as him. You should be rotting underground instead of my Christopher. GET OUT OF MY HOUSE OR I'LL SLAP A RESTRAINING ORDER ON YOUR ASS SO FAST YOUR HEAD WILL SPIN."**_

_**Rex chucked her under the chin, as she furiously batted his fingers away. "That's no way to treat an old friend, Sophia. I wouldn't be tolerating your crippled presence if I hadn't made a promise to Christopher on his deathbed to give you these." He haughtily hurled a mountain of paperwork in her lap and sauntered off with a maniacal, "Best of luck, Dearest!"**_

_**Five seconds later, he popped back into the room, eyes glowing demonically. "By the way, that old friend you always used to talk about. What was her name? Oh right! Aria Edwards! Well, you'll be thrilled to learn that I have her eating out of the palm of my hand. And you thought my days of breaking hearts and stealing trusts funds were over. Ta Ta, Darling." Pompously, he BANGED the door closed, his cocky whistling reverberating down the hall.**_

_**Sophia paged through the documents consisting of bills Christopher had accrued from purchases he couldn't afford, and the deed to a house, which was not your average home, but her dream house, that just happened to be a five-minute walk from Westhaven Circle. Marcus and Aria could be inseparable again, as soon as she moved into the house which Christopher had miraculously managed to pay for with… She reread the account number that the payments had been taken from. Christopher had used the money he had been setting aside since he was thirteen. He had been bragging about this secret stash since the day they met, vowing to put into a retirement account when the time was right. Christopher had spent his entire life savings… FOR HER.**_

_**Wretchedly, Sophia thrust the documents off her lap and onto the floor, giving in to the urge to weep, until she had no more tears to cry. She had evolved from uncontrollable bawling to agonizing wheezing when Marcus strolled into 7G, tossed his paper hat against the wall (he had finally managed to get a job at Wing Stop the week before), and collapsed on the sofa. A cloud of dust hung in the air, as he groaned theatrically.**_

_**"Four hours of dipping artificial chicken into artery-clogging batter does not give you the right to neglect your boyfriendly duties. Where's my hug? My kiss? My promise that you'll call a PROFESSIONAL to fix the garbage disposal!"**_

_**"Sophia," Marcus gently chided, mentally preparing himself for entering Rocky Relationship Territory, "I know that wheezing. That's your Christopher Wheeze. And the aftermath of Christopher's death is something you have to handle on your own. I can hold your hand, but I can't heal your pain. This ball's in your court, Gorgeous!"**_

_**Sophia couldn't resist a smirk. "Maybe you just did, Marcus. Maybe you already have."**_


	10. Chapter 10

Aria had faithfully returned to the Redbud Tree every afternoon since she spent that rainy evening with Kip, hoping against hope that he might be there, hunting for whatever it was that she was hunting for herself. She needn't have wasted her limited time with treks to the location of such an excruciatingly bitter-sweet moment. Following two weeks of rehearsing his groveling, Kip decided he was willing to risk a throw-down with Mrs. Ester Rosenburg in order to attempt friendship with Aria.

Sweating profusely, he paced the length of the Edwards' porch, furiously wiping his brow. Gathering every shred of his courage, he determinedly rang the doorbell. Aria glided into the entryway and ushered him into the Sitting Room. Averting her eyes, she extracted the basket of fruit from his trembling hands, read the hastily scrawled note announcing that said fruit was a gift from Lonnie Matthews and Mr. Bruno, and stiffly offered him a seat in her father's best chair.

Kip had launched into an awkward rant about Mr. Bruno not really being in love with Lonnie if he wanted to marry her so soon after his wife's death, and if a man truly loves a woman, he will never fall out of love with her when, when he was interrupted by a SpongeBob-boxer-clad Marcus staggering into the room, groggily handing Aria an enormous glass of chocolate milk, tenderly pecking her on the cheek, and departing with all the fluidity of motion of a zombie. Aria stammered an apology for Marcus's lack of clothing, when Kip bolted, as if something had clamped down on his ass, from the recliner, and fled for dear life. Aria could only assume that Kip Winters was not a SpongeBob Fan.

Mr. Waldon Edwards decided to invite the Students of Claremont University to Westhaven Circle for a gathering in Hope-Catherine's honor. She needed to make some Bostonian friends, Mr. Waldon Edwards declared. It was improper for a girl with so many visible veins not to have anyone to gossip about boys with and teach her about the wonders of makeup. When Mr. Waldon Edwards dreamed, he dreamed HUGE, so preparations for the party to end all parties were placed squarely on the shoulders of Mrs. Ester Rosenburg. To no one's surprise, Mrs. Ester Rosenburg threw a shindig that surpassed even Mr. Waldon Edwards' wildest expectations.

Hope-Catherine's party was to be an event of such massive proportions that even Aria was given the Royal Treatment. The result of said pampering was that her eyes had never sparkled so brilliantly, and her skin had never been so radiantly flushed, and Kip had never seen her wearing a dress that had left him so speechless. Through the best of times, and the worst of times, Kip Winters could always think of a few adjectives to describe Aria Edwards. Shoulders squared and jaw jutted, Kip sauntered up to Aria, who was guarding the punch bowl.

"So, this is the first party I've gone to when you haven't been shackled to the piano."

Aria spluttered indignantly into her plastic punch cup; regardless of her regal apparel, she wasn't allowed within 1,000 feet of the wine goblets. Kip chugged the entire contents of his shot glass.

Once the dam separating "I'm glad you're doing so well" from "You used to mean the world to me" burst, there's no turning back.

"You used to play the piano because you adored music. When did you start using the piano as a shield? Whatever happened to that girl who wasn't terrified to let people in?"

"Marcus." Aria snapped defensively. "I've let Marcus in. Unfortunately, he's proven himself impossible to get rid of."

Beneath his inscrutable glare, she sunk against the wall, splattering droplets of punch on her dress.

"You know," he spat acidly, "I loved you because you had that whole marching to the beat of your own drummer thing going on."

Aria was so numbed by the crushing blow that he had "LOVED" her, and please note the past-tense, she mechanically hurled her fist against his muscular chest, splashed punch all over his tailored suit, bawled hysterically, and blindly tore out of the Ball Room, down the stairs, through the Dining Room, Living Room and Sitting room, out of the front door, and all the way to the uppermost branches of the Redbud Tree.

Against her will, the memories flashed before her eyes. Memories of rippling biceps snaking territorially about her waist; memories of fingers absentmindedly tugging at the waistband of her skirt; memories of masculine hands roaming roguishly across her bottom; memories of ocean-blue eyes gazing lustily at the rain drops trickling from the tip of her nose; memories of wayward strands of ebony hair sending sensual tingles throughout her fingertips; memories of his heavy panting, as he pressed his torso forcefully against her's…and removed an arm from her waist, in order to retrieve his umbrella.

In that instant, she would have given anything, even her friendship with Marcus, for the chance to react to his accusations differently. She would have taken his face in her hands, fervently pressing her lips to his, as proof that his love was all she needed.

_**With a torrent of cursing, Kip ascended the trellis beneath Aria's window. Heaving himself over the sill, he THUDDED to the floor at Marcus's feet. Marcus examined him skeptically, until Kip growled at him to stare somewhere else.**_

_**Shrugging nonchalantly, Marcus deadpanned, "The last time you pulled the trellis-climbing stunt, you proposed to Aria. I just wanted to make sure you didn't have the wrong impression about you and me. I mean… I realize that every body wants to get with THIS," he batted his eyelashes coyly at Kip, "but… Kip, to put it bluntly, you're too tall for me.**_

_**Kip theatrically rolled his eyes before frantically blurting, "Speaking of putting things bluntly… ARIA VANISHED. We had this colossal argument about pianos, and she….SHE JUST DISAPPEARED."**_

_**Marcus intimidatingly flexed his muscles, snarling, "If you hurt her, I swear to God, I'll rip you apart with my bare hands, atom by atom."**_

_**Kip cowered beneath the foroscious glint in Marcus's eyes and stammered that Aria mentioned a propensity for seeking comfort in Redbud Trees. Marcus had already flung himself over the window sill, scrambled down the trellis, and charged toward the only Redbud Tree he knew of on Westhaven Court before Kip had opportunity to yelp so much as a "Thank you."**_

_**Heart pounding wildly, muscles burning from exhaustion, Marcus approached the Redbud Tree, barely restraining the urge to gasp at the sight of his beloved, heartbreakingly bedraggled and broken Aria. No discussion about pianos could have reduced his typically find-the-bright-side-of-everything best friend to such a state of vulnerability.**_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**__These last few paragraphs are defined as a flashback because of the first paragraph of the next chapter. So, are you lost yet? Me to, but that's probably why I shouldn't be doing this during Sesame Street. Muppets are VERY distracting. Anyway! I figured this is a good time to clear a few things up. In the book, there is no Marcus. Everybody hooks up with their cousin, and Kip is jealous of Rex Evans because he can tell that Rex has it bad for Aria, but I thought an ex fiancee being jealous of a best friend was more powerful, so... if you have questions, ask them in a review. Thanks for reading. I hope you're enjoying it!


	11. Chapter 11

Utterly spent from weeping, Aria slept in her tree. She was awakened by Marcus caressing her face and crooning against her hair that everything would be alright. With these assurances thundering in her subconscious, Aria clasped Marcus's hand, and allowed him to escort her to her bedroom. Such is the nature of best friends that when one promises the other that everything will be alright, everything inevitably turns out alright.

Aria stumbled toward the figure on her window-seat, who was barely visible through her blurred her vision. Groggily, she slumped against the masculine chest, burrowing into the tattered sweatshirt. Strong arms hesitantly embraced her, and she sniffled pitifully, until sleep claimed her.

Satisfied that she was on the brink of being comatose, Kip Winters situated Aria's slumbering form more comfortably into his arms, and tenderly deposited her in her bed. Marcus arched his eyebrows suggestively at Kip, barely dodging the pillow Kip flung in his direction. Throwing a final do-what-you've-gotta-do-dawg smirk Kip's way, Marcus shimmied out the window and cockily pranced off into the distance. Alone with Aria Edwards at last, Kip basked in the tranquility of simply watching her sleep.

The next morning, Aria was slumped in her chair at the table in the kitchen, half-eaten, cherry poptart protruding from her mouth, when Rex Evens settled himself in the chair beside her. Dramatically reaching for her crumb-covered hand, he admitted that he had lied to her. Aria chewed on her lower lip, but made no verbal response.

He had lied, he proclaimed, about their first meeting. He had ogled her so blatantly when they first met because he had known she was an Edwards; in fact, he had known she was THE Edwards he had been longing to meet, since first learning, from an acquaintance who wished to remain anonymous, of her kindness, gentleness, sunny disposition, exquisite manners, etc. From the moment she had been described to him, he had been certain that she was THE WOMAN he had been searching for all of his life, THE WOMAN with the capacity to transform him from a corrupt being into a saint.

Fortunately, Marcus bounded into the room, before Aria had the opportunity to throttle Rex Evans within an inch of his life, with Aria's Morning Chocolate Milk. Rex Evans, metaphorical tail hanging between his legs, slunk from the room. Wordlessly, Marcus offered Aria the glass, and left her alone to process the revelation that Mrs. Ester Rosenburg's dreams of Rex Evans falling in love with her had come true.

The remainder of the weekend passed in a murky haze. Aria mechanically ate and slept and showered and primped, but she was too plagued with memories of her interlude with Rex Evans in the kitchen to focus on anything else. Saturday afternoon melted into Sunday, which melted into Monday, which thankfully became Tuesday. Tuesday meant a forced return to normalcy and minimum brain function, as she was expected to provide caffeine to the portion of the Claremont University Student Body not hopped up on twelve cases of Red Bull.

Having finished yet another Tuesday shift at the Claremont University Campus Starbucks, Aria decided that she could benefit from some Girl Talk with Sophia and some quality time with Marcus. Besides, she owed Marcus the most gigantic cookie in the entire history of the universe for rescuing her so brilliantly from Proposal the Third. Obviously, she'd been deluded for believing that contending with a moose in her bedroom was the worst obstacle that life would ever throw at her.

Upon entering 7G, her spirits were instantly lifted by the welcoming grin of Sophia, and the practically overflowing glass of chocolate milk that had been placed before her chair at the rickety table. She knew Marcus had already spilled the beans to Sophia about Rex Evans alleged undying love for her, but she wasn't expecting Sophia's exclamations of boundless joy.

Off Aria's baffled expression, Sophia hefted a gargantuan photo album from her lap, gingerly placing it on the table between them. Swiftly, she opened the album to a pre-determined page, aquamarine eyes glistening with unshed tears, as she directed Aria's attention to a photograph of two gentlemen clothed in matching Princeton sweatshirts and baseball caps. The one on the right was unmistakably Rex Evans.

Daintily sipping her tea, Sophia, voice quavering anxiously, began her awkward confession. She had pleaded with Marcus to remove himself from the apartment, just for that morning, following Marcus's predictions that Aria would drop by, because they had urgent matters of a highly sensitive nature to discuss. Marcus had immediately obliged, fearing a discussion about tampons and application of mascara.

Rex Evans had attended Princeton with Christopher (Sophia's fiancée). They had roomed together during Freshman Year and had instantly become the kind of best friends who are closer than brothers. Wherever one was, the other was right beside him. Throughout Christopher and Sophia's romance, Sophia had come to view Rex Evans as HER best friend, as well. She could finish his sentences, she knew his favorite songs, she knew the best method of coping with his cantankerous moods, and she knew the depths of his cruelty. This, Sophia involuntarily cringed, had become her deepest regret. She had known how unforgivably vile he was, but hadn't been concerned until he betrayed Christopher.

Rex Evans, Sophia claimed, had developed the perfect system of seducing a woman. He began with a simple comment, such as "Those are lovely pants you're wearing, but I think they would look better if I was inside of them with you."; once he was certain that the compliments had endeared him to the woman in question, he moved on to learning her interests, which he pretended to share; when she seemed convinced that they had tons of stuff in common, he would ask her to join him for dinner; dinner generally evolved into more tawdry behavior in her apartment, or the backseat of his car; the final stage: Fortune Fraud. He charmed her into paying all of their expenses (from rent to video rental fees) with flimsy excuses, such as "My paycheck hasn't come in the mail yet, Sweetheart." and "I'm saving up to give you the perfect anniversary, because you deserve nothing less than perfection, Darling." If Daddy had an enormous trust fund set up for his Little Princess, he would propose to her, then skip town after receiving the dowry.

Sophia hastily advised Aria not to let Rex Evans' past destroy her crush on him. He really was a good guy…if you just looked really deep into his soul…and, OH SCREW IT! Aria immediately placated Sophia that she would NEVER return Rex Evans' love, especially now that she had been enlightened about his Seduction System. The harsh truth that Elianna could have been fooled by his bullshit, eventually becoming a brokenhearted, financially-ruined shell of her former self, struck Aria as an unbearably jagged pill to swallow.

Heedless of Sophia shrieking at her that Rex Evans was better friend material than boyfriend material, and heedless of Marcus cursing at the Pomeranian hell-bent on marking its territory (his left shoe), Aria fled from 7G and the Willow Bend Apartments. Feet pounding the pavement, raven hair flying behind her, she collided with a fire-hydrant, landing on her ass, on the pavement, at the feet of Kip Winters.

Gallantly, he helped her to her feet, studying some imaginary spot in the distance, as she rapidly straightened her skirt. Struggling to repress those pesky memories of hands roaming across the material of this very skirt during a certain rainy encounter, Aria hooked her arm through Kips, and he mutely escorted her to Westhaven Circle. She attempted to telepathically communicate her appreciation of his willingness to respect her desire for silence, and the spontaneous, upward quirking of the corners of his mouth seemed to imply that he shared her fondness of not needing to speak.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: So, the awful truth about Rex Evans is finally revealed! I hate that so much stuff is crammed into one chapter, but, since Jane Austen still hasn't figured out about the magic of segues, I did the best I could with what was in the book. Also, it didn't help that I attempted to write this fic without reading the whole book first. Thanks for reading, and review!


	12. Chapter 12

At 11:30, her Thursday morning shift had officially entered Dullsville, when Marcus wheeled Sophia to the counter. A single tear rolled down Aria's cheek, as she observed him doting upon her, ordering her drink, fetching the necessary straws and napkins and condiments, scouring the establishment for the table beside the window with the most scenic view, the optimum amount of sunlight exposure, the easiest access for wheelchairs. Most astonishing of all, he forked over an entire $10 (plus a $5 donation to the Starbucks Charity of the Month) to cover the cost of both drinks. Marcus, as fantastic a human being as he was, NEVER paid for himself.

Satisfied that Sophia had been well taken care of, Marcus strolled up to the counter and stage-whispered that Sophia had been craving some serious Chick Chat, something about breast augmentations. Aria launched herself over the counter, while feverishly scanning her surroundings for any sign of her manager, and plopped herself down in the chair across from Sophia. Sophia stammered that Aria had made her escape before she had gotten a chance to REALLY destroy Rex Evans' character. Aria leaned forward eagerly. Her ancient suspicions about Rex Evans were about to be confirmed.

According to Sophia, Rex Evans had two reasons for endeavoring to be Buddy-Buddy with Mr. Waldon Edwards. Reason the First: He hoped to pick up some Tricks of the Dean Trade from Mr. Waldon Edwards, since had absolutely no experience being a Dean. Reason the Second: Rex Evans and Mr. Waldon Edwards' friend Colonel Walsh had multiple discussions about Mrs. Cross's schemes to marry Mr. Waldon Edwards for his money. Elianna had become so entranced by Mrs. Cross that she had been blinded to the truth that Mrs. Cross was only interested in her friendship to get close to her father. Rex Evans intended to supervise Mrs. Cross to the best of his ability by spending every possible moment with the Edwards Family. Apparently, Mrs. Cross was becoming suspicious of Rex Evans, causing them to enter a sort of stalemate, waiting for the other to go for the jugular.

Next to be divulged was Rex Evans' treacherous dealings with Christopher. Ever since college, he had encouraged Christopher to fritter away his money on luxuries he couldn't afford, and had absolutely no desire to possess, because a man in a designer suit always gets the dream job, and a man with a tricked-out car always gets the girl.

The last straw was Rex Evans conning Christopher out of the money he had saved to purchase Sophia's dream home with lies of a distant cousin (a four-year-old child), who needed an immediate heart transplant. The parents had no health insurance, and the child would surely die without the operation. A week after Christopher footed the entire bill for the alleged operation, he inquired after the child's recovery. Rex Evans claimed to have no recollection of a child, an operation, or the loan Christopher had given him.

The rest of the visit was spent in silent reflection of Rex Evans' deception, until Marcus, convinced that a suitable amount of time had been spent jabbering about breasts and the augmentation of them, arrived to collect Sophia.

The next morning, the invasive beeping of her Hello Kitty alarm clock lured Aria from the depths of a particularly vivid dream in which she was in full bridal attire, lifting her veil, and gazing lovingly into the eyes of Kip Winters, who suddenly transformed into a moose. Surely if she could be on the receiving end of her ideal proposal, the wedding would be the easy part. Aria mentally constructed a hasty profile of each family member, heaved a frustrated sigh, as her delusions of a chaos-free wedding ceremony evaporated, tiptoed daintily over a snoring Marcus (he'd initiated an Impromptu Pajama Party the previous night because Sophia needed some time to herself to grieve for Christopher), and padded downstairs to the living room in the hopes of watching a few cartoons in peace.

Rex Evans plopped down beside her on the beanbag chair, which could hold fifty grown men. "Wyle E. Coyote is the kind of person I aspire to be," he declared, between enormous bites of HER cherry poptarts. Frosted crumbs splattered against her cheek, as he obliviously droned on. "The way he always holds the anvil, even though he's destined to fall off the cliff… He's so inspiring!"

"I'd call him suicidal," Aria saucily retorted, then lapsed into horrified silence, as she realized she had voluntarily fraternized with the cause of Sophia's misery and financial distress. He had broken hearts and betrayed his best friend, and she was humoring him by engaging in flirtatious banter. There was no limit to how much she sucked right now.

"You wanna know what else is suicidal?" His eyes widened at the uncharacteristic edge in her voice. Aria sensed his terror, and her fury intensified. "Using women as pawns is suicidal! Destroying your best friend's life is suicidal! Making the life of the woman my best friend loves is bloody suicidal, YOU HORRID WANKER! Don't just stand there like a moron! Put that grain-of-salt-sized brain of yours to work and get the hell out of here! If you expect to take over as Dean when my father retires, you'll haul ass now, before I accidentally blab to Claremont's President about you getting down and dirty with his daughter!"

The final threat had been a bluff, but whether he believed she knew his secrets, or was simply petrified by her ready-to-rumble stance, she would never learn. Rex Evans refused to spare her so much as a glance from that day on.

Aria's shrill, majestic demands that Rex Evans go screw himself, immediately, would have captured the attention of even the completely oblivious, self-absorbed, Mr. Waldon Edwards and Elianna, had they not been abruptly silenced by the arrival of Carl, Marita, Heather, Special Agent Hart, and Mrs. Matthews.

Marita, true to form, monopolized the conversation with a decidedly long-winded explanation of Captain Hart's hopes of selling some of his Lego creations at a crafts fair being held to benefit the occupants of the Children's Ward at Boston Memorial Hospital, Carl's hopes of playing golf at one of the world's finest courses, her hopes of accompanying her husband in all his travels (and, being the goddess she was, she couldn't possibly be left behind to rot at Umbridge Court), and Mrs. Matthews and Heather's hopes of purchasing a suitable bridal gown for Heather's upcoming wedding.

Carl barely found an opportunity to whisper conspiratorially in Aria's ear that Lonnie had recovered completely, except for being terrified of heights and inexplicable bursts of noise, Marita would forever turn up her nose at Clarence Howard for being slightly wealthy (and his inheritance of Howards Helping Heroes Agency remained incapable of restoring him to her good graces), and Clarence Howard had proven himself quite an adept golf player (forever endearing himself to Carl), before they were whisked away to the Whiskey Hole Eatery.

What could only be described as a hullabaloo, taking place in broad daylight outside of the restaurant, caused their group to erupt into chaos. Marita yowled at the top of her lungs that Rex Evans and Mrs. Cross were getting their catfight on in the middle of the street. Aria was justifiably skeptical, since she was pretty certain Rex Evans had skipped town to lick his wounds that morning.

However, tendrils of curiosity gnawed at her, until she found herself weaving through the throng of jeering customers that had amassed before the window in question. It was, indeed, Rex Evans and Mrs. Cross… at each other's throats, clawing, yanking each other's hair, spitting in each other's faces, cursing at full volume, pelting each other with loose bits of gravel.

Smirking like the cat that had eaten an entire flock of canaries, Marita reclined in her chair, head held high. Mr. Waldon Edwards thundered at the nearest waiter to bring him the check THIS INSTANT. Carl and Mrs. Matthews huddled morosely together. Special Agent Hart guffawed raucously, until tears streamed down his face. Kip silently slipped out of the room, as the debate of who was at fault raged about them like wildfire. Aria disgustedly dropped her head into her hands and refused to meet anyone's gaze, until they had returned the relative sanctuary that was Westhaven Circle.

The return trip from the Whiskey Hole Eatery had been a silent-as-a-tomb event, as Mr. Waldon Edwards and Elianna had put their absolute faith in the elegance, poise, and perfect manners of Mrs. Cross. None of the other members of the party was in any hurry to make with the gloating, "I told you so"s.

Three hours later, Mrs. Cross crept into the living room, where it was customary for everyone to watch David Letterman. Mr. Waldon Edwards turned up his nose and grudgingly shoved a box of Sesame Street Band-Aids and a tube of Neosporin in her direction. Mrs. Cross mutely gathered the medicinal supplies, as Aria innocently cooed, "Everyone missed you at dinner, Mrs. Cross," to which Mrs. Cross brusquely replied that she'd developed an excruciating headache that could only be cured by relaxation… ALONE!

Marcus coyly sassed, "Headaches that developed during a catfight outside of the Whiskey Hole Eater certainly are a bitch, aren't they, Mrs. Cross?" Proverbial smoke poured from Mrs. Cross's ears, but she offered no explanations.

Rex Evans paced furiously below Aria's trellis, muttering scathing comments about women purposely misinterpreting his Wyle E. Coyote analogies, as Mrs. Cross barreled out of the front door, seething about men purposely divulging her whereabouts to the last person who needed to know that she'd caused a sensation in the middle of the street. So intent were they on venting their respective frustrations, they slammed into each other with a bone-jarring force.

She narrowed her eyes; he glared at her bucked teeth; she burst into tears; he burst into a tale of unimaginable suffering at the hands of Aria Edwards. Mrs. Cross brightened considerably at this declaration of hatred for Aria.

"So," his voice deepened huskily, "my backseat is vacant at the moment." Mrs. Cross needed no further encouragement.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** I love the idea of Rex Evans and Mrs. Cross together because they are destined to screw each other over for money at some point down the road, and I enjoyed having Mrs. Cross do something other than flatter Elianna and bust out pictures of her kids. Thanks for reading, and please review!


	13. Chapter 13

Marcus shimmied up the drainpipe, flung his torso over the window sill, and heaved himself into Kip Winter's bedroom. Kip eyed him warily, gave a mighty yawn, and returned to glaring at the computer screen.

Marcus melodramatically smoothed the wrinkles from his neon-pink hoodie, which read, "All My Black Shirts Are Dirty" in bold font. He cleared his throat, booming, "Winters, I appreciate that you're a member of the Strong, Silent Type, sort of a John Wayne meets Sherlock Holmes, but face it pal… Your James Bond Skillz totally blow! It's like you're Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible, and Aria's the bomb telling you there's one second left to take action. So what it's gonna be? Do you save the world, or do you get your ass blown up for doing nothing… like you have the last five years."

Kip glared at his mouse, eyebrows furrowed in intense concentration. "And who exactly is this "world" that I'm supposed to be saving?"

Marcus threw himself at Kip's feet, softening Kip's grim expression with his most heartbreaking puppy-face, whimpering pitifully, "Me, Man! I'm the world! Aria's been a complete wreck since she dumped you, and I can't handle watching my best friend put herself through hell over you anymore. You have to convince her to take the plunge, like she should have done at nineteen. Just, put two and two together already and figure out that you and Aria need to hook up because MY sex life and MY sanity are depending on you." Slapping Kip on the shoulder, Marcus left him alone with his computer.

Fingers trembling spastically, gnawing on his lower lip, Kip finally sent Aria this e-mail:

_Aria,_

_A little bird told me, well, actually, an abnormally large bird, the kind of bird who is taller than most basketball players, told me that the time has come for us to be honest with each other. I may have taken things too fast before by proposing, so I'd like to make it up to you by being the first to apologize and to explain my actions._

_What it all comes down to is that I love you. I have loved you since the first time I saw you. I had stopped by the Mini Mansion to ask directions to my brother's house, when I noticed you up in your tree. Time stopped. All I was aware of was how peaceful and free you seemed. Being with you always gives me that sense of peace and freedom I've never found with anyone else. I was sure you felt an instant connection as well, so when you turned me down (TWICE), I figured you only thought of me as a casual fling. Then, I became pissed off that you would let people who weren't involved in our relationship dictate what we did with OUR lives._

_But now, I know I should have given you the chance to think about all the dreams we never would have realized, should you refuse me. I'd say we've both had enough time to be certain that the only decision left to make is to give us another try. If you're ready, meet me at the gazebo at Midnight on the night of the party for Hope-Catherine._

_All my love,_

_Kip Winters_

_P.S. I know you swooned over Mr. Bruno's ability to quote movies, so I decided to borrow his method of hitting on you. "You had me at hello," "You complete me," and "I'm taking THIS fish" are the only lines I know from Jerry McGuire._

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Yes, this chapter is short, but I believe that everything that needed to be said, has been said. Also, shout-out to my cousin (like a billion times removed) Caleb, whose shirt inspired Marcus's hoodie! Caleb's wardrobe also includes such classic T-shirts as "Spear Brittney" and "One by one, the penguins steal my sanity" and "Can't sleep! The clowns will eat me!" and "I was schizophrenic, but we're okay now!"


	14. Chapter 14

**DISCLAIMER: **The last five paragraphs of this chapter are what give this story its rating. If you are sensitive to subjects of a sexual nature, proceed with caution, or skip the last part entirely because you won't miss vital plot points if you read ahead.

On the eve of the party for Hope-Catherine, Elianna skulked into Aria's room to swipe a few choice items: her makeup, her hair products, her gown, her heels, and her sequined hand-bag (which had cost Aria seventeen paychecks). It was completely by chance that Cinderella's Fairy Godmother in Reverse happened to download a certain e-mail from Special Agent Kip Winters of the FBI, as Elianna had never mastered the proper procedure for turning the computer on.

Elianna's eyes bulged, as she sadistically tugged at her auburn curls. What might be considered an "idea" was gradually taking shape in the corners of Elianna's mind. She cackled manically at the thought of THE ONE AND ONLY Kip Winters being stood up REVOLTING FILTH like Aria Edwards. Being jilted would definitely serve Kip right for daring to feel anything but disgust for Aria when she, Elianna Edwards, was available for some Smoldering FBI Action. Infuriated, she clicked incessantly on the "Delete' button, musing as the e-mail vanished that all she needed was a little time to come up with the perfect evil plot to put Aria in her place once and for all.

Kip agitatedly shifted his weight from one foot to another. From his position beside the punch bowl, Aria's entrance was erotically visible. He studied her ravenously; from her cascade of raven curls that his fingers itched to become lost in, to the nervous way she worried her lower lip between her teeth, to the creamy skin of her neck, to the radiant, emerald material of her form-fitting gown, to her elegant, silver high heels, Kip committed every detail to memory.

They locked gazes, but she didn't allow those bewitching hazel eyes to linger on his face long enough to arouse suspicion. So she was keeping her true feelings about the situation on the Down Low? Well, two could play that game! All he had to do was refrain from ripping out all of his hair and pissing his slacks from anxiety… for the next four hours. He'd been trained in coping with Breaches of National Security, for God's sake! One woman should present absolutely no problem!

At 11:50, Kip made his way to the gazebo. Aria hadn't spoken to him at all that night, except for her typical "Thank you" for saving her seat to relax in after her Piano Playing Obligations had been fulfilled. He supposed that her façade of calmness stemmed from avoidance, so he considered avoiding delivering the speech he had diligently rehearsed, in favor of moving right into the making-out portion of the evening.

By 12:30, he'd had enough of twiddling his thumbs, gasping for breath, and pounding his chest to jumpstart his heart. Clearly, the avoidance hadn't been about calmness at all, but about passive-aggressively shattering his heart and decimating his dreams. Well, three strikes, and you're out! Kip Winters would follow Aria Edwards to the end of the earth, if he had to, until he was certain that she had gotten the message that HE had ended things between them once and for all. Aria Edwards had not dumped Kip Winters; Kip Winters had dumped Aria Edwards.

At 2 o'clock in the morning, Kip crept through Aria's window, slunk across her window-seat, slithered over her floor, crawled into her bed, and crouched beside her, waiting for her to notice that she wasn't alone. Aria tossed beneath her covers, bumping into Kip's thigh. He couldn't control his haggard inhaling. Groggily, she snapped, "Damn Marcus! You've obviously been working out, but as thrilled as I am for you, get the hell out of my bed! You're welcome to crash here, but you know our rules: Bed, Mine; Sleeping Bag, Your's.

"What if I were Kip?" Kip lamely attempted to impersonate Marcus's sassy drawl.

Aria visibly flinched, then muttered, her indignation muffled by her covers, "Marcus, we've already been through this A BAZILLION times tonight. I don't want to talk about Kip Winters!"

"But I do," Kip growled; removing the blanket she had pulled over her head, Kip towered over her. "I want to talk about Kip Winters, and I'm not going to let you run from me. Not this time."

Eyes as wide as saucers, Aria, trembling violently, met his resolute gaze. In all the time she had spent with him, he had never been so dogmatic about an issue that he refused to consider her opinion. But, now, this conversation with Kip, Aria feared, would prove to be rather one-sided. And somewhere, deep inside of her, lurking beneath the astonishment that Kip had gotten into her bed, as if he owned it, was the twinge of lustful excitement of his display of dominance.

"Why weren't you there," Kip questioned accusingly.

Aria was aghast, not by the inquiry so much as by the THUD of his shoe hitting the floor beside the bed. "I was there," Aria retorted with false bravado. The second shoe THUDDED to the floor beside the first. "You know I was there," her temper flared. "You looked right at me when I first walked in."

"Where were you at Midnight?" Kip's words were muffled by the foreboding ZIP and WHOOSH of his pants being discarded.

"Elianna brought the wrong lipstick by mistake, and she forced me to run home (in six-inch heels no less) to fetch the correct lipstick. She couldn't very well face a member of the Supreme Court wearing "Saturday Night Slut," after all. If it's any consolation, I was there at one."

This pronouncement resulted in the frenzied removal of her Winnie the Pooh pajama top and pajama bottoms. She wasn't certain about what she'd said that had inspired him to creep into her room and handle her so possessively, but she made a mental note to ask Kip in the very near future, so she could say whatever it was at least eighty-five times a day. Boldly, she yanked Kip's overcoat, tuxedo shirt, and bowtie over his head.

All that stood between them now was underwear and excruciating memories of what went down between them five years ago. Smoldering gaze locked on her lustful one, Kip tugged his boxers downward with tantalizing slowness and eased her panties over her hips, down her legs, and off her feet with a single flick of his wrist.

It was exquisite torture; Kip explored every contour of her body with his hands and his mouth, grunting his approval, as she arched helplessly against him. They were pelvis to pelvis, every muscle straining uncontrollably, when Kip sought a final assurance that Aria had been "there."

Wincing in blissful agony as he entered her, she gritted between clenched teeth that she had been there at one… with Marcus.

Marcus! She'd been to the place where he intended to propose (third time's the charm, right?) with Marcus! Despite his immeasurable fury, his mind was unable to convince his body to wrench itself from Aria, until they had both achieved release, collapsing in a sweaty tangle of arms and legs.

Without a word or a glance in her direction, Kip rapidly disentangled himself from Aria, bounded from the bed, tugged on his clothes, and dashed over the window-seat, and out of the window, before Aria had a chance to process that he had taken her virginity.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** I debated about certain parts of this chapter for a very long time because it makes Kip seem like a prick, and I didn't want that, but…jealousy of Marcus and Aria's relationship (and his misinterpretation that they are more than "just friends") was bound to come to a head sometime. That time just happened to be during sex. If there is any confusion about the conversation they have before things get racy, the next chapter explains everything. And, not to get all after-school special here, but for those of you feel that the progression of Aria and Kip's relationship wouldn't happen in a Jane Austen novel, so it shouldn't have been included here, you're right. It wouldn't happen in a Jane Austen novel, but kissing doesn't happen in a Jane Austen novel. The characters just explain past actions for two pages and the next chapter begins with, "So they gently broke the news to their families that they were getting married." Whoopdie-Freakin'-Doo! In our society, kissing tends to escalate, and that's my whole speech, which is totally Oscar-worthy.


	15. Chapter 15

Groaning in agony, Marcus inched his battered body up the trunk of the Redbud, and rested his head across Aria's lap. "You look like hell," Aria deadpanned.

"You look like you just got lucky," Marcus pompously triumphed, flailing his arms in the air, nearly tumbling off the branch.

Aria placed a restraining arm across his stomach. "Easy there, Tiger! I don't want you joining Sophia in her wheelchair."

"Tell that to the Prince Charming responsible for ruining my face. I used to be irresistible. Now, he's totally screwed my mojo!"

Aria examined his injuries: bruises the size of watermelons zigzagged across his arms and legs. The area surrounding his eyes was the same color as her hair. His breathtaking amber eyes were practically swollen shut. His nose was off-center and probably broken. And his face was caked with dried blood. He looked like Xena Warrior Princess had just handed him his mangled carcass on a silver platter, like he had been mauled by rabid moose(s), like… Marcus broached the sensitive subject first.

"You're probably pretty curious about Kip's reasoning for opening a Family-sized vat of Whoop Ass on me, aren't you?"

Aria stared moodily in the direction of Westhaven Circle, sheepishly muttering, "I said your name when we were…"

Marcus instantly beamed, cockily prompting, "Dude! Did you say it like a nun would say it, or did you scream it like a banshee at the top of your lungs?"

All the color drained from Aria's face, "Marcus, if you love me, not to mention have any respect for me at all, solemnly swear that you did not ask Kip that question. Solemnly swear… AND MEAN IT."

"You screamed it," Marcus couldn't resist gloating. No, she hadn't screamed his name, she'd used her normal, quiet voice, but she wasn't about to sweat the little things when Kip had misconstrued the situation so horrendously. Marcus yammered on that Kip had mostly repeated the words "e-mail to Aria," "gazebo," and "Midnight."

Aria was dumbstruck, as she replayed Kip's frantic questioning about her being "there." She had assumed he was referring to the party, but what if… "E-mail to me, but I didn't get a… MARCUS, are you absolutely positive that's what he said?"

Marcus pouted petulantly, "As positive as you can be with two hundred pounds of pure muscle raining down on you from every direction."

Exacting vengeance on Kip for beating Marcus to a bloody pulp would have to be dealt with later. Besides, Aria smirked to herself, having Mr. Waldon Edwards (if everything went according to plan) for a father-in-law was more punishment than anyone deserved. Aria euphorically pressed her lips to Marcus's cheek, catapulted to the ground, and barreled, at full speed, to the gazebo.

He was sprawled on one of the benches that lined the walls. If her entire future hadn't depended on what she was about to do, she would have given in to the temptation to belt out a couple of songs from the Sound of Music, especially the one that took place in a gazebo. Of course, when Kip had his knees to his chest and his head to his knees, and was rocking back and forth despondently, musical interludes were not an option.

Aria sat on the opposite end of the bench, sultrily purring, "Kip, I'm so sorry I'm late."

Kip lifted his grizzled, tearstained face to hers. Voice quavering, he snapped, "Save your pity, Aria! I'm not interested in Marcus's Sloppy Seconds, so get the hell out of here!"

Under less dire circumstances, Aria would have spat in Kip's ocean-blue eyes, delivered a bone-crushing kick to his balls, and gotten the hell out of Dodge, but she had already wasted too much time where Kip was concerned to blow her last chance with him because he was defensively venting his rage with brutal insults.

Aria, despite his grunts of protest, embraced him, and persisted in clinging to him with every ounce of her strength, until he melted into her arms. Soothingly, she whispered in his ear, "I never saw your e-mail, Kip. I didn't know I was supposed to meet you here. If I had, not even Marcus could have kept me from you. Marcus and I have never had a romantic relationship, and we never will. He's always been second in my heart, and you have always been first. Last night, when… when… you asked me if I was with Marcus, I thought you were asking if I was with him at Hope-Catherine's party, because, like I've already mentioned, I didn't know anything about the gazebo, so…"

"Damn, Woman," Kip passionately pressed his lips to hers, as every fiber of her being sizzled from the contact, "I think I loved you more when you were giving me the Silent Treatment."

Aria furiously crossed her arms over her chest, mischievously quipping, "So, you loved me, huh?"

Kip draped a territorial arm across her shoulders. "It seems that I was destined to love you five years ago, and I'm doomed to love you today, tomorrow, and always, and, if you ever decide to run from me again, you should probably get it into your head right now that I'll wait for you forever." Before she could argue, or ruin the moment with a catty comment about Marcus, Kip closed the distance between their mouths with another torrent of earth-shattering kisses.

Kip mused to himself that persuading the woman of his dreams to come crawling back to him, after five years of waiting patiently (WHO THE HELL WAS HE KIDDING!), had truly been time well spent, especially now that he was free to hold her and kiss her and run his hands through her hair and make love to her and watch her sleep whenever he wanted.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Gah! So Kip is a bit prick-y again in this chapter. I really do adore him, but… if the person you love says someone else's name in bed, particularly the person who you believe is making moves on your Special Someone, well… there's gonna be a Throw-Down! Regardless of Marcus's Colossal Ass-Whooping, I was very proud of the rest of this chapter, and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Please review!


	16. Chapter 16

"Need! Oxygen!" Aria managed to pant, before Kip swept his tongue into her mouth.

"You've had five years to breathe," Kip countered in disbelief.

"Men," Aria mock-groused, "always expecting you to breathe on their schedule."

"Well," Kip flirtatiously tickled her ribcage, "If you did everything on my schedule, we would have been married by now."

"Aria rested her head on his shoulder. "Well, if you had made jokes like that five years ago, I would have married then, so I could murder you and collect the insurance money."

They were lounging in the Redbud Tree; he was lying on his back; she was sprawled across him, making a wreath of Redbud blossoms to adorn her raven hair. They had both begun to regard this tree as their place on that infamous rainy day.

Aria hadn't known, until that afternoon in the gazebo (which had resulted in several splinters in various places from getting a bit too frisky on the bench), that Kip had returned to the tree everyday to search for her, just like she had done in the hopes of finding him.

Aria also hadn't known about Lonnie Matthews. Kip had begun spending time with Lonnie to make Aria jealous, then to forget that Aria could have married someone else (a.k.a. Carl), and then, he began to value Lonnie's friendship. Every Wednesday, they would go to the Knock 'Em Down Bowling Alley. On the weekends, she kicked his ass at paintball. He taught her to play pool; she taught him to appreciate opera.

They especially enjoyed bitching and moaning about the special people in their lives, the ones who had ripped out their hearts, thrown them on the ground, and done the Mexican Hat Dance on them. Incidentally, Lonnie had fallen for Mr. Bruno, when he claimed to be head-over-heels for Aria, because she thought his berets were "kind of kinky."

The more time they spent together, the more Lonnie became like a Marcus to Kip, which was why Kip had been so devastated over Lonnie's accident. If she had landed differently, she could have broken her neck. Kip had been forced to sit through enough ER Marathons with Lonnie to know that a broken neck isn't at the top of anyone's Wish List.

Kip's true feelings for Lonnie had remained a mystery to Aria since her days at Umbridge Court, and even the admission that Kip only thought of Lonnie as a best friend couldn't completely erase those memories of Kip and Lonnie throwing themselves at each other among the bushes that day that Clarence Howard finally proposed to Heather Matthews.

Aria was certain that Kip loved her. She could feel it every touch of his hands and his lips and every soothing caress of his voice, but a lifetime of being informed that she was nothing more than a blemish on mankind; well… those wounds would take a considerable amount of time to truly heal.

With all the misunderstandings of the past behind them, Aria and Kip looked to the future, which included breaking the news of their couple-dom to the well-intentioned loved ones who had made their lives hell for so many years.

Mr. Waldon Edwards and Elianna were confronted by a blushing Aria and a defiant Kip in the middle of their weekly ritual of browsing through an ocean of magazines, in order to critique the latest fashions.

Mr. Waldon Edwards listened to the announcement that his middle child was steadily dating a member of the FBI with admirable calm, and only one gasp of horror. He was comforted immensely by the knowledge that Kip was to be the Guest of Honor at the White House in a month's time, and the entire family would receive an all-expenses-paid trip to Washington D.C. to attend the event.

Elianna seductively inched her leather micro-mini upward on her thighs, bending over the magazines to offer Kip a peek at her cleavage. Kip shuddered involuntarily; steam poured from Aria's ears; Mr. Waldon Edwards remained blissfully ignorant. Satisfied that she had made an impression, Elianna returned to criticizing the models in the GAP ad. Elianna had been royally pissed that Kip would attach himself to a waste-of-valuable-space like Aria, when he could have been with her, but, if he didn't realize what he was missing, he certainly wasn't worthy of what she was offering.

Marita was indignant that Kip hadn't come to her about Aria in the first place; she had an infinite amount of ideas about how he should have asked her to be his girlfriend. Carl boasted that he had always known that Kip and Aria were destined to be, and all that Mr. Bruno and Aria stuff was his way of harassing his wife. Special Hart and his wife sent a letter expressing their sincere congratulations, continuing that they believed Aria and Kip were the "perfect couple." Kip beamed. Aria had never been considered as "perfect" for anyone but Marcus. Heather and Clarence and Mr. and Mrs. Matthews and Lonnie and Mr. Bruno offered their warmest best wishes, which Aria, following Elianna's exhibition of skankiness, was only too thrilled to accept. Mrs. Ester Rosenburg would never respect Kip's choice of employment (as she still believed that an expert in criminal behavior will only end up a criminal in the long run), but she was eventually convinced that Kip adored her beloved Aria, as no one else did. This love endeared him to her forever.

As for Rex Evans and Mrs. Cross, the sordid events of their elopement was soon splashed all over the tabloids. Something about him making out with a moose, while she stole his wallet, and attempted to escape in their rental car, which turned out to be not so much rented as stolen… from the daughter of the President of Claremont University.

It seemed that what Marcus Emilio Reese had said to comfort her so long ago on that Christmas Eve at Umbridge Court (the first and ONLY time she had ever kissed him) had come to pass after all. He had promised her that everything would work itself out in time, and it had, beyond her wildest dreams.

Not only was she engaged to Special Agent Kip Winters, but Marcus was engaged to Sophia Smitz, and he had even managed to hold down a job for longer than two weeks. Kip pulled some stings… okay, an entire orchestra of strings, to convince his boss that Marcus would make an excellent member of the FBI. Baffled as hell by Kip's choice of FBI Member Material, following a rather disastrous interview when Marcus accidentally flung his whoopee cushion at the interviewers toupee, Kip's boss had agreed that Marcus would make a fine addition to the Federal Bureau of Investigation… as Kip's new partner.

Rather than make crude comments about Aria bellowing his name in bed (Marcus recognized that he and Kip weren't at that phase in their blossoming friendship when jokes like that were acceptable), Marcus graciously accepted the position as Special Agent Reese, and rushed to 7G to propose to Sophia Smitz, who had been upgraded from wheelchair to crutches a mere two days before.

Kip respected Marcus's maturity about their minor misunderstanding (Kip pummeling Marcus within an inch of his life) so much that he offered to pay all of the debts that had fallen onto Sophia's shoulders after Christopher's death. With her burden to the government taken care of, and the impressive cash flow from Marcus's position of Kip's Sidekick, Sophia was able to scrape together enough money to make the final payments on the home Christopher had attempted to purchase with his retirement fund. All the wounds inflicted by Rex Evans were on the road to impending recovery.

A week after news of their engagement had been broken to all who needed to be notified, Aria huffed and puffed her way into her home on Westhaven Circle, hair horrendously mussed from her double-shift at the Claremont University Campus Starbucks. Kip and Marcus had not only invaded the Sitting Room, where she had hoped to collapse in her father's recliner, but they seemed to be in the midst of rather tawdry activities.

Whispering conspiratorially, Kip handed Marcus a wad of bills. Aria arched an eyebrow disapprovingly. Marcus responded with a coy wink and roguish grin. Kip sheepishly mumbled that he was simply paying Marcus for supporting THE CAUSE for the last five years, THE CAUSE being a never-ending campaign to reunite his two best friends. Aria was too exhausted to swat Kip's hand as he gently reached for her, pulling her into his lap. They cuddled, as Marcus grunted his disgust.

Aria couldn't imagine feeling more loved and protected than she did at that moment, in the arms of the love of her life and beside her best friend in the entire world. It may have taken Kip five years to convince her to marry him, but it didn't take him five seconds to convince her that with him was exactly where she intended to stay from now on.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **First of all, it must be noted that the rubber duckies on my pajama pants have addled my brain so much that this author's note will probably be incredibly pointless. Next, the most massive props ever to everyone out there who has written or attempted to write a modernized fic. What I have learned is that… you should read the entire book before you start. I made the mistake of writing as I read, and by doing that, you miss countless opportunities to hint about characters that will become important later on in the story. What I wound up doing was writing the fic so that it turned out to be a cut-and-paste version of the story with a few cars thrown in. Then I tried to make the language a little more modern, but it's hard to oppress the vocabulary, so my paragraphs tend to be lengthy. Then, I added more modern stuff like clothing and TV shows. Finally, I changed the majority of the characters' storylines. I basically wrote this story three times. Again, to everyone who's done this before or will write one of these stories after me, YOU ALL ROCK. Finally, I feel like there are differences between my story and the book that should be cleared up. Everyone was a Navy man. General Creed was an Admiral, and his wife was always talking about her adventures at sea with her husband. Rex Evans was Aria's cousin and Mr. Waldon Edward's heir. Clarence Howard was Heather Matthew's cousin, and he was a priest, who was supposed to inherit the local church. Sophia was an old friend of Aria's, but she was three years older, and she and Aria were brought together by a former nanny of Aria's, who happened to live in Bath, and Aria visited her at some point. The Mrs. Cross and Rex Evans lovey-dovey bit and the end was kind of ambiguous in the book, but I assumed they got together. Also, there was no catfight between them. No one in the book had a job; they were all just rich because their families had been rich for generations, or something equally boring. In the book, Kip admits that he used Lonnie Matthews to make Aria jealous. I didn't want to explore that too much in the story (because having Aria go from liking Rex Evans, who was a user of women, to being with Kip in the end, who was also using women, seemed like bullshit to me), so I tossed it at the very end, which works, since Jane Austen is always tossing important stuff into the last ten pages. Most importantly, at the end of the book, Kip wrote a letter telling Aria that he had always loved her and he was using Lonnie to make her jealous and he was pissed that she let other people tear them apart, but he was willing to give her a second chance if she would take him back. He stealthily puts the letter in her hand. She reads it. They smile each other. That's the love scene. BLAH! Anyway, I suppose that pretty much covers anything that might still be confusing between the book and my story. Thanks for reading. Please review.


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